The Dreamer
by Winter's Melon
Summary: I, London Potter, am a witch. To be honest, I wasn't too surprised when my letter came. It would certainly explain the strange occurrences that happened around me. The fact that I had a brother, however, was definitely surprising. I wonder if he's like me: cold, untrusting, and alone. Does Harry dream of better times too? He'll go on to defeat Him, but I'll still be here, dreaming.
1. Prologue: Where It All Began

_Hi! Welcome to my very first fan fiction story! I've decided to start with a classic Harry Potter fan fiction. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy! Harry Potter and all other characters do not belong to me. Only London Potter, and Mother Hestia's Orphanage for Orphaned Children. Read on!_

 **Prologue**

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were perfectly normal. But like every perfect family, they held a horrible secret (at least, to them). They dreaded the day somebody would find out. Their life would be ruined! Too bad that day would come very soon.

After a stressful day at work for Mr. Dursley, involving some of our wizard friends, it was finally night. The time our mysterious cat sitting on the brick wall was waiting for.

The entire street was quiet. Not a single sound could be heard. No slamming of car doors or hooting of any owls. Everything was quiet. Then, a very old man appeared onto this quiet street (Private Drive). It was none other than Albus Dumbledore, the famous wizard who defeated Grindelwald, the previous Dark Lord. He appeared so quietly, that it looked liked he'd been formed by the mist itself. He either didn't know, or didn't care, that he was not welcome in that place. He was too busy grabbing his Put-Outer, which he pointed at each lamppost in turn. Each went out with a soft _pop_ , leaving the entire street dark. All anybody, even noisy Petunia Dursley, would be able to see, was the small pinpricks that were our cat friend's eyes, glowing eerily in the heavy darkness.

Dumbledore took a seat by our cat, not even sparing it a glance. But he said, "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." And indeed it was, our stern, green-robed professor. She stared him down with the same sharp eyes that her cat had, asking him the question behind why she'd been sitting on a hard brick wall all day. And now we know. Brave Lily and James Potter had been murdered by the current Dark Lord, who liked to call himself "Lord Voldemort". But that wasn't all. "They say," Professor McGonagall said, "That he tried to kill their little boy, Harry. But - he couldn't. Nobody knows why, but somehow, when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, his power broke. And that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly, the usual twinkle in his eyes long gone. It was astounding, really. Of all the people he'd killed, all the powerful witches and wizards he'd brutally murdered, he couldn't kill one little boy. "I don't suppose you can tell me why we're here, of all places," McGonagall said after a pause.

"I'm here to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only relatives he has left."

McGonagall jumped to her feet and pointed indignantly at number 4. "You can't mean those people!" she cried. "I've watched them all day, and they're the worst kind of muggles imaginable. I watched their son kick his mother down the street, screaming for sweets! Harry Potter come live here!"

"It's the best place for him," stated Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous—a legend—I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future—there will be books written about Harry—every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

"I suppose you're right," McGonagall agreed reluctantly. "But how will he get here?"

"Hagrid's bringing him." And so he did, on a flying motorcycle. But both Professors received quite a shock when Hagrid arrived carrying not one, but two bundles.

"Hagrid," Dumbledore asked kindly. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid replied gruffly. "I found these two in the nursery, everything around them up in flames. The boy is young Harry, while the girl is little London Potter. I found a letter on Potter's bedside table, explaining how Harry has a twin. Harry is older by one minute. They're alright. Fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol." The two shocked professor leaned over the bundles to observe the two. Two tufts of black hair could be seen. One belonged to a chubby baby boy, while the other belonged to the slimmer baby girl. On the forehead of Harry Potter was a lightning scar, the only difference between to two children. "They will have to be separated," Dumbledore said sadly. "Harry's path will be much more difficult than London's. The two will be better off growing up apart."

"Why ever so, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asked, agast. "Surely it would be better if Harry had his sister to lean on."

"He will have to be a hero someday," said Dumbledore. "London may become jealous is she knows him more closely."

"I suppose… where will London go?"

"I will send her to Mother Hestia's orphanage." Dumbledore gave a sigh. It was one of the rare moments where he showed just how old he really was. "I really don't want to do this, but it's for the Greater Good."

After setting the male Potter on the steps of number 4, the three adults turned back to face the youngest Potter child. "I'd better get young London to the orphanage," Dumbledore spoke. "We might as well go and enjoy the celebrations."

The three parted ways, and Dumbledore apparated to the front steps of Mother Hestia's Orphanage. Setting the baby on the top step with a short impromptu letter he'd written, Dumbledore walked back to the corner of the street. Spinning around, he apparated away, but not before saying, "Good luck, London," just like he'd said for her brother, her twin.

And there the young girl lay, sleeping peacefully away, not knowing that she wouldn't see her brother again for another long, ten years, not knowing that in a few hours, she'd be awakened by the small shriek of one of the orphanage maids, not knowing that everywhere around the country, people were meeting in secrets and raising their glasses in toast for her brother. "To Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!"

No, she couldn't possibly know those things. Instead, she slept on. The Dreamer.


	2. Chapter 1: The Letter

**Chapter 1: The Letter**

I'd be lying if I said it was a bright, sunny day, because we hardly have any of those in London at all. It's either cloudy, or raining. Incredibly boring combination, but what can you do?

The orphanage wasn't much brighter. I can see that they'd tried, from time to time, to brighten up the rooms, but it was always torn down for some reason. Honestly, the whole place looked like a prison, with the way the rooms and everything in it was set up. If they just put bars on the windows and doors, and a bucket in the corner for us to do our business, the place would look like a proper prison for child delinquents. Not that they're too far off.

Most of the residents at Mother Hestia's Orphanage for Orphaned Kids were either shoplifters, pickpockets, or basically any other form of child robber there was out there. I don't think it was their fault, and I don't think they were doing it because they wanted something. I mean, they did want something, but not what they stole. There were so many kids at the orphanage that there weren't enough caretakers to take care of each child. Many of them, especially the older children, wanted attention. From any adult, even if it was the police.

Then there was me. London Potter, orphanage number 1890. I didn't steal, but I was strange. Even I admitted that. Things happened around me, things I couldn't explain. It ranged from just making a pencil fly, to turning my teacher's wig blue. Other kids avoided me because they weren't sure what to make of me. I was either the kid with cool magical powers or the freaky kid who did unnatural things. I'd looked my talent up in the library, and the only explanation I could find was magic.

I was currently at that age where magic was still believable. And what I could do just furthered my belief. Maybe you could call me crazy, immature, weird, or a combination of the three, but if you've ever witnessed one of those strange occurrences, you'd believe me.

I can speak to snakes too; I found that out when I was five. I was out in the playground, sitting by my lonesome self under a willow tree when I met my best friend. It's kind of sad that my best friend is a snake, but as an orphan, we learn quickly to take whatever we get.

It was the last Saturday of the month. The time when all the orphans are brought out, for the young and old couples that lived in the area to look through us. They believed they'd find their perfect child. I don't understand that logic. How could you find a perfect child if he or she wasn't your own?

I hated those days. Nobody ever wanted to adopt me. I was too old. The adoptees were only interested in the young children, five or six years old. And no matter how much we begged not to have to come, because we knew already we would be rejected, the maids always forced us, and it hurt every time.

Perhaps it was partially my fault. After all, I was cold and untrusting. Whenever an adult tried to talk to me, I just stared coldly back. But what did they expect? I was an orphaned child, forever doomed to be alone. I knew they wouldn't pick me anyway, so what was the point in trying to impress them? It would only hurt more.

Sometimes I dreamed about my family; the people who had given me up. I imagined a cheerful father with twinkling eyes, and a kind mother who cared. A brother, a twin, perhaps, who looked just like me. What would our family have been like if they hadn't given me up? Did I really have a brother? What would it be like, to have a sibling to depend on? What would it be like, to have a family? People who really cared, would never leave, and would always be there. I knew it was just the wishful thinking of every orphan: to know their family. To know that their family really cared. But we all knew they didn't. Why would they give us up, if they really loved us? Love wasn't a one-way road. It had to be a collaboration between two parties. I loved my parents, even though I didn't remember them. But apparently they didn't love me back. And that was why I was here. In the orphanage, moping around because in a few minutes, I would be forced to go downstairs and face the wannabe foster parents.

"Stop pacing, London," Sharo, my snake friend, hissed softly. "It's not a big deal. You know what to expect. You know what will happen anyway. So it's not big deal!"

"It is, Sharo!" I knew I sounded childish, but I couldn't help it. "I know what to expect, but it hurts every time! It's just the wishful thinking, I guess." Sighing a little, I plopped down onto the bed next to my friend, ignoring the irritated "Careful!"

"I supposed there's always that little part of my brain that just keeps hoping, hoping that someone would find us, and make us part of their family."

"There's nothing you can do about it, so just suck it up!" Sharo told me. "Anyway, you'll always have me." I kept quiet, deciding not to tell her that having a snake as a pet was irregular.

A sharp knock on the door signaled that it was time. Taking a deep breath and rearranging my face into the "Ice-Queen" mask that I always wore to those kind of things, I marched down the stairs, refusing any eye-contact. Lining up in my usual position, I waited. And waited. And waited. Pairs and pairs came through, and scrutinized us, like we were pairs of shoes. Maybe they're not trying to make us uncomfortable, but I hate being observed. It makes me feel like everything I do is somehow or the other recorded, which is just plain creepy. I saw several other kids up and down the line begin to shift a little as the day drags on.

When day finally became night, the cafeteria was significantly less crowded. Several of the younger kids had been adopted that day, leaving the teens and preteens to their own. Of course, I felt happy for the ones who had been adopted. At least they had a chance to experience a loving family. But I couldn't help but feel bitter, no matter how much I tried to repress it, because that would never be me. Nobody wanted a moody, strange ten year old, no matter how good they acted. They wanted cute, chubby little children who they would be able to nurture and care for. Us ten year-olds and up were already halfway through our childhood, and very rarely did anybody adopt them. That's why there were so few of us. There were only five ten year-olds, three eleven and twelve year-olds, a couple teens who were between the age of thirteen and fifteen, and one seventeen year-old who would be going off to college next year. Every orphan knows that they're doomed to stay at the orphanage until they graduate high school if they're middle-aged kids. If it were up to me, I'd run away. But of course I can't. I'd be caught, and then brought back to the orphanage. Several other kids had tried, but most returned before they were found out. "The outside world is really scary," Owen O'Nell, someone who hadn't made but a few miles away before returning, had told us. And so I stayed put. And studied hard. Someday, I would be able to leave the orphanage for good, and I wanted to be prepared.

If only I'd noticed a certain green robed woman standing in a corner, watching me through narrowed eyes.

The next day dawned surprisingly bright and sunny, and when I woke up, I knew the day would be a good one. It was one of those rare sunny days in London, and I decided I needed some fresh air. Climbing over the fence that lined the orphanage, I began exploring. Just looking around, and seeing what the city had to offer. Which wasn't much. You had Big Ben, and a couple cool shops here and there, but other than that, it was just a plain old city. Nothing exciting to it at all. But I stilled liked to wander, because I saw new things. No matter how small they were. I visited the nearby shelter, where people gave me weird looks for being alone. I ignored them. Kneeling down beside one of the pens, I stuck my hand in for the dogs inside to explore. Poor animals. They reminded of me, in a way. Stuck in someplace they didn't want to be. I wanted to adopt one of the dogs, I really did. But I was too young, and I didn't have enough money to pay the adoption fee. Besides, the orphanage didn't allow dogs. Maybe if they did, it would become a more likable place to spend most of one's childhood.

Checking the clock that someone had hung on the wall, I saw it was 12:00. Lunch started at 12:30, and people would look for me if I didn't show. Sighing loudly, I gave the dogs one last pat before starting back.

Reaching the cafeteria just in time, I got in line behind Georgia Mires, the seventeen year-old, and tried not to cringe at the _thing_ they'd decided to serve for lunch. I swear I saw it move. Aaron and Rylie Chaffer, twin nine year-old boys, were trying not to gag as they shoved the "meatloaf" down their throats. Taking my tray over, I sat down across from them. "How does it taste, boys?" I asked them quietly, trying not to catch the attention of the cafeteria lady. She tended to get offended if we ever complained about the horrible taste.

"Horrible!" Aaron declared, while his twin brother pretended to throw up behind him. "It's like rotten spinach!" The other orphans, who had taken seats along the single table in the room, groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I can't believe Parliament lets them serve this stuff! This is abuse, this is!" Charlie Harper, a thirteen year-old, complained.

"We've just got to live with it," Georgia said bravely.  
"You're just saying that because you get to escape this next year!" he accused her. "While I have to suffer for five more years!"

"Maybe I should have signed up for boarding school," I muttered softly. "Maybe they'd serve better food."

"Nuh uh!" Bobby Ryan, fourteen, disagreed. "Their food is probably just like this. Unless you go to a restaurant, places that have to feed people because they're required to by law won't give a shit about how good it tastes. As long as you're fed and look mildly healthy, they'll be okay."

"Bobby! Watch your language!" Shannan McNair, fifteen screeched. "There are _children_ here!" She waved none-too-discreetly at the twins.

"Honestly, Shannan," I told her. "They've probably heard a dozen curse words since they've been here, and will most likely hear a lot more before they leave for college. They might as well hear it now instead of later."

"Whatever."

After finishing up lunch, if you could call it that, we split ways and headed to our own separate rooms. Staring moodily at the clock they hung up in each room, I just watched the hands ticking. The minute hand clicked briskly, while the hour hand shifted slowly as the hours passed. Taking a book (The Hobbit) I had "borrowed" from the library, I set around to finishing it.

I'd just gotten to chapter 7, where Bilbo met Gollum, when a maid (I never bothered remembering their names) barged into the room. "Someone is here to see you," she said. Shrugging, I went back to my book. Whatever.

I looked up once more, a little annoyed, to see a mean-looking man dressed in funky clothes walk in. He was a peculiar man, and if your parents saw him on the street, they'd hurry you away, flashing looks of suspicion as they went. He had greasy hair that grew to his shoulder, a hooked nose, and a permanent sneer. He was wearing a black dress that reached his knees, and a black cape. All in all, he looked like a nasty thing. Kind of like Batman-ish Gollum.

I smiled a little at my comparison, but then saw that the man looked just as annoyed as I had a few moments ago. _I don't remember doing anything to him,_ I thought, interested. _I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I ever met someone like him._

Directly behind him was another man. This man looked extremely old. His nose looked like it had been broken a couple times ( _I wonder what he did to it_ ) and his blue eyes twinkled cheerfully behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. This man had a grandfather look to him, which made me distrust him even more than Batman Gollum, because we all know that the kindest people always turn out to be the worst. Take Hansel and Gretel. That old witch looked like a nice old woman, but in reality she wanted to eat them (Cannibalism, anyone?). He looked just like Gandalf the Grey, the wizard who accompanies Bilbo on his adventure. _What's with all the_ _Hobbit_ _references today?_ I wondered absentmindedly as the younger man closed the door. _Eh, who cares? If I'm lucky, they'll have magical powers and I'll be taken somewhere else where I longer have to eat horrible cafeteria food._

Deciding to be polite, I closed the book and bowed a little to the two creepy men. "Hello, sirs. Welcome to my humble abode," I spoke, gesturing to my little cell- ahm, room. The reactions were complete opposites, and both expected. The ill-tempered man's sneer deepened as he swept his judgemental eyes across my few possessions. It just seemed to make him sneer more. _Well, it's not my fault I live in an orphanage, Mr._ I snarked back silently. The Gandalf guy's eyes just twinkled more and he looked extremely amused. _They're not too hard to read,_ I thought to myself. As an orphan, I learned to read people. We all did. It makes it easier to ask for food, money, and small possessions.

"Hello, London Potter," Gandalf greeted cheerfully. "I see you're living well."

"Of course, Mr. Gandalf sir," I replied. "I just _love_ living in a hell-hole where all they serve are quivering masses of 'meatloaf,'" here I made quotations with my hands, "that taste like spoiled spinach. And it's definitely not creepy that you know my name," I added sarcastically at the end. Mr. Gollum snorted at the Hobbit reference, and I turned indifferent eyes to him. "It's not like your nickname is any better, Mr. Batman-ish Gollum."

"If you must know, you insufferable child," he sneered. "My name is Professor Severus Snape, and I will be one of your professors at school. So you might as well learn how to be respectful to your elders, Potter, because I can make your life hell."

"Sure, sure," I rolled my eyes slightly. "And who said I would be going to your school anyway?" I gave his appearance a disdainful look. "Seems like this school is full of biased teachers, and your fashion sense isn't too great either."

"Enough," Gandalf said calmly, effectively silencing "Professor Snape." "I think we got of the wrong foot," he smiled graciously at me.

"Ya think?" I muttered quietly.

"No matter," he said, ignoring what I'd said. "My name is Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Say what now?" Witchcraft? Wizardry? What the hell is he talking about? And Wulfric? His mother must have a sick sense of humor.

"It understand it must be a lot to take in," he said calmly. "But I'm telling the truth. Have you ever done something when you were angry, or scared? Something you couldn't explain?" Holy… how did he know? Is he a stalker? Was he here to kill me? Was he really a crazy psychopath with twinkling blue eyes who was bent on world domination?

Okay, the last one may have been a little farfetched, but he's a stalker. I'm sure of it.

Suddenly, I got flashbacks. Flashbacks like I've never experienced before. I re-experienced my first bought of "magic," where I made a pencil fly. Then the first time I met Sharo. Then the time I turned my ex-3rd grade teacher's wig blue.

"Are you a stalker?" I asked finally. _Smart move, London,_ I told myself, but honestly, I didn't know what to say. And maybe I was trying to squish down the tiny bit of hope that was bubbling deep inside the pit of my icy cold heart.

"No, we're not, child," Dumbledore spoke, understanding shining in his sharp eyes. "You see, this happened to me, and Severus, and many other children like you. We're wizards, London, and you're a witch."

"Okay, hold up!" I said, holding my hands up, to put a barrier between me and the two strange people who were claiming strange things. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I continued, "So you're saying, that there's a magical community I never knew about hidden away in England, and that I can do magic, and you can too, and you're inviting me to a school for magic."

"That's right," said Dumbledore, delighted. "We are here to invited you to attend Hogwarts this year, where you will meet people like you, and learn how to do magic. Like this." He took out a long stick and pointed it at my Hobbit book. He said something like "Wingardium Leviosa!" and the book I had been holding in my hands not a few minutes ago _flew_. Like literally. My mouth was hanging open, and I'm sure I looked pretty stupid, because Snape smirked a little. "Holy shit!"

"Language," Dumbledore reprimanded. "But anyway," he said, putting his stick away. "You'll learn that kind of thing at Hogwarts. Here is your letter!" From the foldings of his dress, he pulled out a thick envelope with green ink on it. It said, "Ms. L. Potter, Third Room on the Second Floor, Mother Hestia's Home for Orphaned Children, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Wow, you guys are… very precise," I muttered to myself. Even though I knew they were wizards with magic, I was still convinced that they were stalkers. Turning it over, I saw the Hogwarts seal. It was made up of a large H, surrounded by a lion, a snake, a badger, and a eagle. Their school motto was Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. "Never tickle a sleeping dragon," Dumbledore translated cheerfully.

"O...kay." Carefully opening the envelope, as not to hurt the seal, I took out a letter made of the same thick paper. Parchment? Must be. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

—

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"Um, you already know that I'm going. And what do you mean by 'We await your owl by no later than July 31'?"

"The wizarding world uses owls for mail transportation," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly.

"Isn't that inhumane?"

"I don't think so," he replied thoughtfully. "The owls really do seem to enjoy there job."

"... oh. Can you tell me more about the wizarding world?" I asked hopefully. Luckily, he complied. I knew that where there were people, there were politics, and people who didn't understand the politics generally did poorly in society.

By the time they'd left, I'd learned about the Ministry of Magic, the discrimination (of course, where wouldn't there be?) against muggleborns, the basic laws for underaged wizards, and of course, the attack on my parents by the evil Dark Lord Voldemort. Before they left, Dumbledore had said, "Hagrid will come pick you up come Monday to get your supplies. We'll tell your caretakers, so I wouldn't worry. He'll be bringing your twin brother as well, who has been living with your aunt and uncle. His name is Harry, and he's famous." And he left before I could ask a question.

 _God damn it!_ I cursed quietly. Honestly, he leaves me with the biggest question of the entire meeting! I had a brother? How come I'd never known? Where was he all those years? Was he as miserable as I was? What happened to our parents? Why was he famous and I wasn't? Why wasn't I taken to my aunt and uncle as well? I was almost pulling my hair out before the maids called curfew. Yes, we still have a curfew. It's really sad.

That night, as I lay in bed, I was thinking. Harry Potter. That was a nice name. He was my twin. Was he a nice person? Did he dream of better times too? I wonder what our relationship would be like. Would he grow arrogant because of the fame he had? Or would he be a humble brother, like a brother I would want? Would he shun me away, because he lived a good life with our relatives? Or would he accept me?

Sighing a little, my eyes caught sight of the letter laying messily on my desk, and I couldn't help but smile. Magic existed, and I was a witch. I had a brother, a twin, and I'd finally meet him come Monday. I'd finally escape from the dump they called an orphanage, and finally be with people like me. Yes, today was a good day, and I couldn't wait for Monday. _Come quick, Mr. Monday. I can hardly wait._


	3. Chapter 2: Identical Twin

**Chapter 2: Identical Twin**

My letter had arrived on Wednesday of that week, and I was hyper all week. The kids at the orphanage kept sending me looks, like "Are you okay?", because I was never one of the bouncy kids. In fact, I was usually cold towards everyone, and barely talked at all. Until now. But how could I tell them that magic was real? They'd probably laugh in my face, and think my brain was made of nuts and bolts. It's not, trust me.

So all I told them was that I'd been invited to attend a prestigious boarding school in Scotland. They, of course, were super jealous of me, and Charlie ignored me for a week. I didn't really care though. He'd never been very intellegent conversation anyway.

Even my teacher (surprise, surprise) noticed my new enthusiasm in class. My 5th grade teacher asked me one day why I was so enthusiastic about learning. I'd never been so vocal before. I laughed before telling her I'd never see her again. That got me a one-way ticket to the principal's office. But he laughed so hard at what I'd said (apparently she'd never been a favorite, even amongst the teachers) that he let me off with a warning. "Just don't say anything to her face," he'd said, winking discreetly as he signed me a pass back to class. She was definitely pissed, but she couldn't really do anything. I had never been so happy to go to school.

The weekends were spent visiting the local shelter, and saying goodbye to my puppy friends. "I'll be back in the summer," I told them. "I promise." They understood me, and the big spotted one, who I'd named Chap, gave my hand a huge kiss. "Love you too, Chap."

I even told the grumpy cats goodbye. "I've never given you much attention before," I said seriously to one of the bright, orange cats. "But I won't be seeing you again for awhile, and you'll probably be adopted by then. Too many people adopt cats, in my opinion. But bye anyway."

By the time Monday rolled around, I was ready. Ready to face the wizarding world, ready to face my famous twin brother, and ready to leave the muggle (non-magical) world behind. But what I wasn't ready for was the giant who'd come to pick me up.

I was hanging around the common room, just waiting for "Hagrid" to just come already, when a man about twice the height and four times the width of a normal human with a wild, shaggy beard and beadle-like eyes entered the orphanage. He was so tall, he had to stoop down to fit in the doorway. Remembering the little manners I'd been taught at school, I said, "Welcome to Mother Hestia's Orphanage for Orphaned Children. Can I help you?" I gave him a one-over, taking in his giant coat covered in pockets, and the mysterious pink umbrella that hung from his side. He definitely wasn't here to drop off a child. _Who'd make out with this guy?_ I thought. _No offense._ "I'm lookin' for London Potter." His voice was extremely loud.

"Er, yes, that's me," I waved nervously. Dumbledore never told me Hagrid was a giant! Or, half-giant, anyhow. "Wow, London! The las' time I saw you, you was only a baby! You look a lot like Harry, but without the scar," he boomed enthusiastically.

"Thanks…?" I wasn't really sure what to think. On one hand, this guy was my ticket out. On the other hand… he was a bloody giant for Merlin's sake (yes, I'd finally caught on to the magical sayings)! "So, you're my sister?" a voice spoke from behind the bubbling mass.

Stiffening dramatically, I shifted to face… myself. Literally, the guy standing in front of me looked like my mirror image. Other than the fact that my hair was in neat curls tinged with orange, while his was a messy nest of black, the ugly glasses he wore, and the noticeable lightning scar that adorned his forehead, we looked exactly alike. "Huh," I spoke out loud. "I never knew staring at your identical twin could be so… creepy."

"Wow," he said, wonderment clearly in his voice. "You look… like me!"

"Well, yeah, we're identical," I said a-matter-of-factly. Observing him a little closer, I noticed huge bruises. Most were hidden by his incredibly baggy clothing, but I could see the corners peeking out over the material. And Harry was definitely shorter than the average ten year old. He looked malnourished and weak. His glasses were old, and had definitely been broken several times. They didn't even seem to be the proper prescriptions! "Uh, Harry, quick question."

"Mm hmm." He wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring around, watching Aaron and Rylie play together with a wistful look on his face. It just furthered my suspicions. "Harry, how did our relatives treat you?"

That one question was all it took. I would have laughed at Harry's reaction if I hadn't been so serious. His head whipped around so quickly that I was afraid it would pop off. He seemed to choke on air, and I had to pound his back several times for him to breath normally. "What?"

"How did Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon treat you?"

"Er…"

"No need to lie," I said shortly. "It's pretty obvious that you've been beaten and starved. And your glasses need to be changed. Have you ever noticed?"

"Well," he blushed slightly, "I sometimes have a hard time seeing the board at school."

"Yeah, well, that's because your glasses aren't even the right prescription. And what's with the design? It looks like they found it in an antique shop!"

"They… did find it in an antique shop."

"What?!" I was outraged. I'd just met my brother, and he was obviously older, but I had grown a sort of protectiveness towards him. And I just couldn't believe Petunia and Vernon could be so cruel. I mean, yes, Dumbledore had explained Petunia was slightly jealous of Lily when she'd been invited to Hogwarts, but I didn't expect her to still carry the grudge, let alone pass it on to Lily's son. What they did was child abuse! The least they could have done was send Harry to the orphanage, although I suspected they'd probably been bribed.

"That's child abuse, that is! How didn't the neighbors notice this?" I asked furiously.

"Most of the neighbors thought I was a troubled child. That's what the Dursleys wanted them to think. And our cousin, Dudley. He's a human pig. Hagrid did some magic on him because Vernon was being the stupid walrus that he is, and he grew a pig's tail. Apparently he was so pig-like already, there wasn't much else to do with him."

"Serves them right," I muttered angrily under my breath. _Dumbledore!_ Was he planning something? Because I would not let him manipulate my brother into his little "Golden Boy." I knew there was something off about him from the start. Those twinkling blue eyes were too unnatural. Creep.

"Alrigh', you two." Hagrid had returned from who-knows-where. "I've gotten permission to take you two ter Diagon Alley. We're goin' ter take the train, okay?"

"Wow, Hagrid, I'm impressed!" I said. Dumbledore had said that most of the wizarding world didn't know about the modern technology in the muggle world. They thought our latest invention was the car, or "horseless carriage." What about phones? The computer? Electricity? I was actually really impressed Hagrid knew what a train was.

Harry sent me a weird look on our way out, but I mouthed, "I'll tell you later."

On the train ride, Harry set about to explain to me what had happened to our parents. Of course, I knew most of it, but it felt nice just to sit, relax, and have a proper conversation with my twin. Twin. The word still felt strange in my mouth. It was a word I'd never expected to say. Ever. I thought I'd been an only child. I thought my parents had given me up. But no. I had a twin brother, who had been living with our abusive relatives for the past ten years, and my parents had died to protect us, and the Wizarding World. Even though Dumbledore had said Harry had saved the Wizarding World, I couldn't help but think it really was our mother, Lily. After all, she was the one who had sacrificed herself for him. SHE was the one who had stepped in front of the Killing Curse to save her children. And I couldn't help but feel slightly bitter, that our parents were being ignored in favor of Harry. I tried to stop it, I really did, but a small feeling of hate began erupting in the pit of my stomach. It was a poison in its own. It didn't kill, but killed in it's own way. It wove itself deep into my bones, and in that moment, I couldn't help but hate Harry. Hate him for taking the spotlight, and for taking the attention that really should have gone to our parents. Hate him for wearing that lightning scar on his forehead like it was a medal, when it had costed our parents their lives.

I knew I was being unreasonable. It wasn't Harry's fault he had the lightning scar. If I had been struck, it would have been me with the lightning scar on my forehead. And it wasn't his fault he'd gotten the attention; he'd been shoved into it, without his permission or consent.

I was shaken out of my deep thoughts by a pair of small hands. It was shaking me back and forth, and I hear Harry's worried voice. "London, are you okay? You were staring off into space, and you didn't respond to Hagrid's or my callings!"

"What?" I asked groggily. Harry's worried green eyes came into view. Whoops. "Oh, sorry, Harry. Hagrid. I spaced out for a little bit."

"Yeh sure yer okay, London?" Hagrid asked, with concern laced in his voice. "You were starin' at Harry with a lot o' hatred in your eyes."

"Was I?" I wondered in a daze. I would have to work on my mask; it was starting to crumble a little.

"My apologies."

"It's alrigh'. Now come on. The train's stoppin' soon."

Hopping off the train at the London Subway Station, Harry and I followed Hagrid's huge figure out of the station into the big city beyond. He had told us that we could find everything we needed for Hogwarts in London, "if yeh know where to go."

We ended up stopping in front of a dingy pub. It looked incredibly dirty, like the owner hadn't bothered to clean it up, and the paint was starting to peel off from the front. How this was one of the most famous places in the Wizarding World, I wasn't sure. The "Leaky Cauldron," as it was called, would never had been noticed if Hagrid hadn't pointed it out. But before either could ask anything else, Hagrid steered them inside.

The inside of the pub was a little nicer than the outside, and bustling with people. However, Hagrid seemed to know everyone, and we were stopped several times as people greeted Hagrid. The bartender smiled up at the giant and said, "The usual, Hagird?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle. I couldn't help but snicker, which earned me a glare on Harry's part.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this—can this be—?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Uh oh," I mutter quietly. Harry barely had any time to blink before "Tom" rushed forward and said, "Bless my soul. Harry Potter… what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry didn't seem to know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. I just rolled my eyes at all the attention, and went back to humming a song I'd heard on the radio.

I jumped a foot in the air when there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand—I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" I sent Harry a sideways glance. _You've met this crazy old man before?_

Yes, his look told me.

Harry shook hands again and again—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. My eyes narrowed a little bit upon seeing him. He gave a suspicious vibe, just like the one Dumbledore had given me.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, London, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you." _What, you just going to leave me hanging?_ I thought sarcastically.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" I asked politely.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He didn't seem very happy about it.

"Come on, lots ter buy," Hagrid chuckled lightly before pulling the two shocked children out of the pub.

"Told yeh, didn't I," he grinned back at Harry while looking for his umbrella. "Yer famous!"

"Is Professor Quirrell always that stuttery?" I asked him.

"Yup, poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag—never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject—now, where's me umbrella?" _Poor bloke my arse,_ I snorted. Quirrell was up to something, and I was going to find out what.

"Three up, two across," Hagrid muttered to himself. And just like that, the brick wall split open. It writhed, slide, and shifted apart, until it created a walkway large enough for Hagrid to pass through. "Welcome, Harry and London, to Diagon Alley!"


	4. Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

**Chapter 3: Diagon Alley**

I wasn't one to be impressed easily, but… I was impressed. Diagon Alley was crammed with so many interesting things to see and do. Witches and wizards of all ages were bustling around, probably shopping for school supplies. Turning my head around in wonder, I tried my best to see everything. There was an apothecary, and a bookstore called Flourish and Blotts. There was even an ice-cream shop, which Hagrid said was the best around.

"Come alon', London. Don't want yeh to get lost." I'd almost forgotten Harry and Hagrid were there. "Right."

"First, we've got to get your money," Hagrid said.

"But, Hagrid," said Harry. He was the more vocal between the two of us. "We've haven't got any money! How will we pay for everything?"

"You didn't think your mum and dad wouldn't leave yeh anything, did yeh?" Hagrid grinned at the startled look mirrored on our faces. "It's all in Gringotts - ah, here we are!" In front of us was the strangest building I'd ever seen. It looked like it was trying to mimic one of those buildings from Greece, with all the columns and stuff, but it was extremely crooked. "Uh, Hagrid," I asked hesitantly. "Are you sure that won't fall on us while we're in there?"

"'Course not!" he exclaimed. "That building has been standing for much longer than Dumbledore's been alive."

"And how old is he?"

"I never asked. It's impolite, yeh know." I decided not to mention what he'd said about muggles on the train. He'd acted as if muggles were a whole different species, though it was probably partially true.

We began walking towards the first set of bronze doors. In front of them were-

"Goblins," Hagrid told us. He, or it, had large, nimble fingers, and a smile as crooked as the building it guarded. He was about a head shorter than Harry was, but I could tell he had the ability to move fast if he wanted to. The goblin bowed us through, and I couldn't help but bow back a little. I decided these creatures were not to be messed with, and the easiest way to make someone mad was to disrespect them.

Now we were facing a second pair of doors, but this time, silver. Engraved into the silver were these words:

Enter stranger, but take heed,

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware,

Of finding more than treasure there.

"You'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

"They're a nice bunch, aren't they?" I remarked as we passed through the second door. Hagrid didn't answer me, but sent me a strange look. Shrugging it off, I began exploring the entrance hall. It was extremely big, much larger than one would expect from a building of that size; perhaps they had used some magic to enlarge it. Many goblins filled the halls, weighing precious jewels or writing paperwork. Still others were leading wizards into the deep caverns below, where I guessed the money was kept. Hagrid led us to a free counter, where an aging goblin sat. He had an air of importance around him, and if I had to guess, I'd say he was the head goblin, or one of the more powerful ones. "Morning," Hagrid greeted the goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. London Potter's safe." I couldn't help but think that Hagrid's tone was a little too demanding to be respectful. What if the goblins ripped him apart? They were fully capable of doing so, and we were outnumbered a thousand to three. Probably more.

As Hagrid dug around in his many pockets for our key, I began staring around, admiring the architecture, and occasionally bowing to any passing goblins. They seemed surprised by my actions, but I wasn't sure why; I made a note about asking Hagrid later.

"Ah ha! Got it," Hagrid finally said, holding up a small, but intricately-carved key. "Is that solid gold?" I wondered aloud.

"Of course," the goblin answered proudly.

"Alright…" The goblin inspected the key closely, before saying, "Everything seems in order." But then Hagrid did something that made me… suspicious. His voice lowered conspicuously, like he was trying to keep a secret that only he and the goblin knew. "An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." Did the You-Know-What have to do with You-Know-Who?

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was another goblin, but his uniform wasn't quite as decorated as the old goblin. "What's the You-Know-What in vault 713?" Harry asked curiously. But Hagrid just shushed him, saying it was top secret. "What do you think it is?" I asked Harry as we entered one of the carts. The vaults were apparently connected by many tracks, which ran along the stone passages, twisting in turning to confuse any thieves. "Your guess is as good as mine," he replied. Whatever it was, it was probably extremely important, I reasoned, for Hagrid to keep it from us. I'd learned that Hagrid was extremely trusting, and told us almost anything we wanted to know. And it was involved with Dumbledore, so it must also be very dangerous, or valuable. Hagrid had said Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain, even more so than Gringotts. I decided I would need to buy a book on important wizard artifacts when we got to the bookshop.

The cart ride was actually extremely entertaining. I'd never been on a roller coaster before, but I believe even a roller coaster couldn't beat the cart. It sped at speeds that probably weren't safe if it wasn't for magic, and Hagrid looked a little green in the face. Harry sat rigidly in his spot, like he wanted to move, but was afraid to do so. I, on the other hand, could barely contain a whoop of elation. "Can we speed this up?" I'd asked the goblin. He gave me a delighted grin, but Hagrid intervened. "No thanks."

The rest of our time in Gringotts was rather boring. We found we actually had a tiny fortune buried under the ground, and the very important object of vault 713 turned out to be a grubby little package. I tried to stay optimistic, like "Looks can be deceiving, right?" But honestly, I was really disappointed.

"I was definitely expecting something more flashy," I mutter angrily as we headed towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Hagrid had decided he needed a Pick-Me-Up, whatever that was, from the Leaky Cauldron, so he had left us to get our robes ourselves. Muttering about irresponsible adults, their tendency for stupid motion sickness, and their need to "shield us from the real world," because I've already seen pretty much everything the world had to offer, thank you very much (and yes, I've seen people having sex before; one of the maids had brought her boyfriend, and I'd found them making out on one of the cafeteria counters. I've never touched food on that counter since), I ignored Harry's amused chuckles as I grumpily pushed open the door to the store, not bothering to hold the door open for my twin.

Madam Malkin was a nice witch, a little on the short side, and dressed all in mauve. "Hello, Hogwarts, dears?" she asked kindly. I nodded stiffly, still a little pissed off at Hagrid and the grubby little package in vault 713. "Come along," she said, gesturing to Harry and me. "We've got another boy getting fitted in the back as well."

In the back of the shop, we met a pale-faced boy with a ferret-like face who was standing on a stool while another witch pinned his long robes. Madam Malkin assigned us to the two stools next to him to get fitted, and we complied.

"Hogwarts too?" the boy asked pompously. I reckon he was a pureblood, by his tone and the expensive materials of his robes.

"Yes," Harry answered, uncomfortably. I figured Hagrid probably hadn't him told very much about the wizarding world regarding the culture and politics. I, on the other hand, had been told a lot, probably a little too much, about the ways of the "New World."

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Right. First years weren't allowed brooms.

"Doesn't the wand choose the wizard?" I asked him curiously. "Why would your mother be looking at wands if it wouldn't really matter which wand she chose? Unless, of course, one of the wands she found happens to be your wand, though that's extremely unlikely."

"That's true," the blond boy admitted. "Do you have your own broom? Play Quidditch at all?"

"Unfortunately, no, and no." My lips curled into a small sneer. I sent Harry a worried look, because he was being awfully quiet, but he just motioned for me to go on. I don't know much about the Wizarding World, he seemed to be trying to say. Shrugging, I continued talking to the pureblood. "I've been living with muggles for as long as I can remember. It's horrible, really. Their orphanages are the shabbiest things; honestly, I'm surprised they even allow people to live there!"

"You lived with muggles?" The disgust was displayed clearly in his voice.

"Yes!" I huffed. "I wish I had a wizarding family to live with."

"Are you muggleborn?"

"Our parents were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean," Harry interjected.

Shrugging, the blond pureblood continued his questioning. "Do you know what house you'll be in?"

"No," my brother answered bitterly. Didn't Hagrid tell him anything?! I thought worriedly. It seemed like he didn't even know what a house was! "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"I think I'll either be in Slytherin or Ravenclaw," I spoke up thoughtfully. "Although, Gryffindor wouldn't be too bad either."

He looked like he was about to say something, but Madam Malkin chose that moment to say, "All done, dears."

"I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express?" I asked the boy.

"Sure, see you at Hogwarts."

We went around to the other shops, buying the necessities for our first year; Harry bombarded Hagrid with questions the whole way. I felt bad for Hagrid, but decided that it was his job, anyway. He'd signed up for it. After visiting the bookstore for our books, the apothecary for our potions supplies, and several other stores for cauldrons, scales, quills, and ink, the three of us checked to see what we needed. "Just yer wand left," Hagrid said. "Oh yeah, an' I still haven't gotten yeh a birthday present."

"A birthday present?" I asked, intrigued. I'd never gotten one before, although apparently it was something you got on your birthday.

"You don't have to!" Harry protested, but it was waved away. "I'll get yeh owls," Hagrid decided.

Harry fell in love with a snowy owl right away, but finding my pet wasn't that easy. I couldn't find an owl that suited me. There were barn owls, snowy owls, and even screech owls, but none really fit my needs. I was just about to turn around and just get a cat when I saw a silvery owl staring at me with intense, moon-like eyes. I narrowed my eyes at him (I'm sure it was a guy), but he just narrowed his eyes back. Smirking a little, I carefully stuck my hands through the bars. He nipped it a little, before staring at me, like "Just hurry up and open the cage already."

And so now I have my owl. I named him Dakkeul Mun, which means "to polish" in Korean. "Wand time."

 _ **[Just pretend that all that nonsense with Harry and Ollivander is here. It's not, because I'm too lazy to write it all down, but you can look it up and find it.]**_

After a long, long time of utter boredom, with me staring dejectedly out the window, Harry finally found his wand. It was holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. Apparently it was Voldemort's twin wand, but at the moment I didn't really care. "Is it my turn?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes, Ms. Potter," Ollivander chuckled lightly. "It is now your turn."

Excitement quickly turned to boredom as the clock slowly ticked forward. Wand after wand was tried, and my left hand was beginning to tire. We tried woods of many qualities, and cores from several phoenixes, dragons, and unicorns. Then…

"A most unusual combination, even stranger than your brother's. Cherry and the tail feather of a moon owl, thirteen inches, unyielding flexibility," he said, a slight tremble in his voice. Taking the wand gingerly from the old wandmaker, I felt power, more than I'd ever felt before, surge through my body. Wind began picking up around me, as did the little light that was present in the small shop, and Dakkeul Mun began hooting loudly. His feathers began to glow, and he grew in size. I could smell cherry blossoms in the air, and hear an old wooden flute in the distance.

But as soon as it began, it ended. My hair was frazzled, and Dakkeul Mun was still a little bigger than he had been when I'd gotten him, but things otherwise were untouched. "I'm sure we can expect powerful deeds from you, Ms. Potter," Ollivander was saying. "I haven't seen such a reaction since Dumbledore came to buy his first wand."

"Thanks, I guess?"

The rest of the day moved along slowly. Hagrid bought us hamburgers, and I scarfed them down. They never made food like this in the orphanage. He gave us our tickets to Platform 9 and ¾, before leaving us on the train to make our way home. On my stop, I smiled a little at my newly discovered twin, and waved. "See ya at Hogwarts!" Dragging my trunk up the steps in Mother Hestia's, I made it to my room without being detected. Opening up one of my textbooks, I began to read. I needed something to do. A growing girl needed their entertainment, after all. And Snape, the Potions teacher, had warned me to preview my studies, because he would quiz me on it in class.

Smiling slightly at the memory of the batty man, I continued to read about how to brew a cure for boils. I was ready for Hogwarts. The question was: Was Hogwarts ready for me?

 _Hi, everyone! Sorry for updating so late, I just had a lot to do this week, and had some writer's block. I hope you like this chapter! BTS (BTX?) is releasing their new comeback in a few hours, and I'm really excited! I'll try to update a little more, but no promises. Read on!_


	5. Chapter 4: Hogwarts Express

**Chapter 4**

The days passed by in a blur for me. Eat, study, eat, study, eat, sleep, repeat. I was so excited for Hogwarts that the kids in the orphanage often caught me just sitting there with a dreamy look in my eyes, which was unusual for me, and everyone else in general.

The day September 1st rolled around, I was up at 5:00 and bothered the maids for four straight hours until it was time to leave. The maids dropped me off at Kings Cross, and I swore I heard them laughing as they drove away. Disgruntling petting Dakkeul Mun (who just turned out to be a moon owl, isn't that funny?) while hosting my luggage onto a cart, I wheeled into the station in search for Platform 9 and 3/4. I halted between Platforms 9 and 10 just in time to see a man who had obviously been well fed cackling as he walked away from a put-out Harry. "Hi, Harry," I said, drawing his attention to me.

"London!" Relief flooded his voice. "I'm so glad you're here! Do you know how to get on the Platform? I've been looking everywhere, I even asked the security guard, but I can't find it! And Uncle Vernon just left me."

"I just got here, Harry." The disgruntled look on Harry's face would have made me laugh if it wasn't for the severity of the situation. If we couldn't get to the Platform, we wouldn't make it onto the train. Then it would be bye-bye to Hogwarts. Looking around desperately for any signs of another wizard, my eyes zoned in onto a large group of redheads, the head of the group talking loudly. Definitely Weasleys, if what my books had said were correct. " - packed with muggles, of course -" Lips curving into a sly smirk, I turned to my twin and said, "I think I've just found the Platform."

Hiding behind the pillar between Platforms 8 and 9, we watched as the lady, who I'd deduced to be the mother of the pack, led three of the four brothers into the Platform. Harry, of course, jumped out from behind the Platform and wheeled his cart up to the woman, me following reluctantly behind. "Excuse me!" he called. "Can you tell us how to, you know..."

"How to get on the Platform, dear?" she asked with a knowing smile. "All you have to do is run at the wall" was basically what she said. My face must have shown a sign of shock, for the little red-head girl besides the plump woman piped up, "Don't worry, miss! It's magic after all." There was no fault in her words, so, me being the stupid idiot that I was, volunteered to go first. Alining my trunk with the barrier, I shut my eyes tightly before charging headfirst into the barrier, my last thoughts being "I really hope I don't die; this isn't how I want to go to the Underworld."

The next thing I knew, I was hearing sounds that did not belong to the muggle railroad. Sounds of screeching owls, hissing cats, and the chatter of many magic users. "Wow..." But of course, I forgot that more people were coming after me, so naturally, Harry came running through the barrier and almost barreled into me. _Whoops..._

Grunting, Harry attempted to maneuver through the crowd of people, us looking for an empty compartment to reside in. Once we found on, I took out my wand from the holster I had boughten from Ollivanders and stuck a featherlight charm onto my luggage. Hosting it up with ease, I set it snugly into the racks before going back outside to help Harry. But he had already utilized the help of the two of the redheads we'd met on the Platform. Fred and George, if I recall correctly. They were struggling to carry the heavy trunk, but finally got it. Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead, and I slapped my hand to my face as he revealed himself as Harry Potter. _Honestly, can he be any less stupid? He's going to Gryffindor for sure..._ Deciding Harry had enough of worshipping (for he'd get a lot more later on, there was no doubt), I casually strolled in front of Harry and the twins and spoke in a smooth voice, "You do realize you could have put a featherlight charm onto the suitcase, right?"

Fred and George gave me twin curious glances, before their eyes widened as they stared between Harry and me. Harry looked uncomfortable with all the attention, while my eyes twinkled with amusement. "Yes, we are twins. And yes, I am a Potter," I answer quickly before any of them could ask any questions. Fortunately, we were saved as they were called back by their mother.

"Harry, you need to be more careful," I chastised him quietly once we'd settled down. "If you continue revealing yourself, it could lead to bad endings." Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but wisely (in my opinion) said nothing.

The train began to move as a loud whistled echoed across the platform. I watched the red-haired girl chase the train until it rounded a bend, and thus began our eight hour journey to magic school. Pulling out _Hogwarts, A History,_ I began reading, until the silence was chattered as the door slid open. Looking up, I realized it was the youngest Weasley child. Harry invited him in, and he introduced himself as Ron Weasley. Harry and Ron hit it off right away, although the red-haired boy didn't seem to know how to act around me after I introduced myself as "Harry Potter's twin." I didn't mind much though; Ron seemed like too much of a follower anyway.

Deciding I needed a break from the boys' endless prattle about Quidditch, I silently slid out of the compartment before making my way down the train. Along the way, I bumped into Draco Malfoy. Literally. Strolling down the narrow aisle, I peaked into different compartments, catching flashes of red, yellow, blue, and green. Wondering which house I would be sorted into, I was knocked rather suddenly out of my musings when I felt someone crash into me. Tumbling backwards, I closed my eyes for the impact, but it never came. I felt slim but strong hands catching my body, and when I cautiously opened my eyes, my emerald green stared into swirling mercury. Noticing the blond hair and aristocratic features, I deduced that this must be the boy I'd seen at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He was already dressed in the Hogwarts uniform, while I was still wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie, along with my favorite pair of Converse I just couldn't part with.

Eyes widening, I stumbled back before bowing slightly to the Malfoy scion. It wouldn't do to anger a pureblood heir so early in my witch career. "I sincerely apologize for crashing into you, Mr...?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," the boy replied pompously, though his eyes glittered with mirth. "Your apology is accepted. Though what would a lovely young lady such as yourself be doing wandering around these halls?" he asked while subtly winking. I felt my face heat up as a blush crept onto my pale cheeks. I wasn't sure why I was reacting this way; never before had a boy gotten such a reaction out of me. And believe me, many have tried. "I-I'm just looking around." Cursing at the noticeable stutter in my voice, I rushed on. "I was just thinking about which house I would be sorted into, and my brother and his friend was talking too much about Quidditch..." I trailed off, not exactly sure what to say next. Malfoy was undeniably good-looking (I refuse to say handsome; I mean, what kind of word is that?), and I was just... me. Not to mention how much political power he possessed, and just by looking at him, I knew he knew it. I was just some random orphan who knew almost nothing about the wizarding world except for the little I'd learned from the books.

"Would you like to come sit with my friends and I?" he offered. Taken aback be the offer, I could only nod numbly. Grabbing my hands in a surprisingly gentle grasp, Malfoy tugged me along the train until I reached a compartment slightly larger than the others, with clear Slytherin wannabes lounging in. Malfoy strutted into the compartment confidently, his poster demanding attention, with me trailing hesitantly behind. My instincts were telling me this was enemy territory, and my instincts had never been wrong before.

"Guys," Malfoy announced.

"And gals," a dark-haired girl with a slightly pudgy nose exclaimed.

"And gals," he consented. "This is..."

"London. London Potter," I finished helpfully. An eerie silence descended amongst the group. Their expressions ranged from curious to furious, though I didn't understand where the latter emotion came from. Unless they were children of former death-eaters, which I knew Malfoy was, and was angry with my brother, and in return, me, for defeating the Dark Lord, which was also probably true... oh shit. Didn't I tell you I always trusted my instincts for a good reason?

"Potter," the girl from before spoke up. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I dunno," I said, shrugging. "Draco kind of led me here..." Said boy launched into this explanation about why I was to be trusted and not like those "mud blood-loving" scums, etc etc. I tuned him out and began staring at the scenery flashing by outside, before a hand on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts. "Yes?" I asked on instinct.

"Draco explained everything," she said. "Pansy Parkinson."

"Hello." I know, not one of my best moments.

The rest of the ride was spent on getting to know the other inhabitants of the compartment. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle. They all had one thing in common: they _hated_ muggleborns with a fiery passion. I don't hate muggleborns, per say, but I do have a small loathing for muggles. I mean, who houses children in a prison?!

The time then came for me to return to Harry's compartment, for I still needed to change into my robes. "See you soon!" Pansy called after my retreating figure. After getting to know eachother, she'd soon become one of my best friends.

Walking leisurely back to the compartment, I found Harry and Ron in the same position as they were before, except this time surrounded by candy and an old, fat rat who was missing a finger.

"Come on, boys. Time to change." Donning on the plain black robes with the Hogwarts crest, I sat down with my knee bouncing impatiently.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to Hogwarts separately," a voice echoed through the train.

300, 299, 298, 297, 296... I began counting the seconds in my head.

12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. At that moment, the train slowed to a halt. We had arrived at Hogwarts.

 _Hi, all. I'm so so so sorry for this terribly late update. I've been so busy lately, with a horrible case of writer's block. But I will try my best to update as much as possible! I'm aiming for one chapter a week, but please don't complain if I miss a week. School's a pain, but what can you do? I will probably also be creating another story, this time a Rise of the Guardian fan fiction, with another OC, of course. You'll probably find that I will soon have a lot of incomplete stories, but I need to start them before I forget, or else it's gone forever. Hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I added some Draco, and I'm thinking of putting London in Slytherin, but I may put her in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Which one would you prefer? Please support this story, because it's you guys that inspire me to continue writing. Happy reading!_


	6. Chapter 5: The Sorting

**Chapter 5: The Sorting**

Joining the crowd of students rushing off the train, Harry, Ron and I stumbled off the train into the cool evening. Stepping onto the slightly damp platform, I shivered a little before drawing the thin Hogwarts robes tighter around my thin frame. "Firs' years, firs' years over here! All right there, Harry and London?" I looked up to see the familiar bushy beard of Hagrid. I nodded, before moving towards the small fleet of boats bobbing in the dark lake. "No more'n four to a boat," the giant called, his voice echoing eerily across the water. Settling into the front seat of the boat with Harry, and I turned around to see Ron and a pudgy boy settle behind us. "That's Neville Longbottom," Harry whispered quietly. "We met him on the train." Nodding and giving a small "ahh..." of understanding, I quickly flipped back to the front as the boats began to glide silently over the water. The dark water was as smooth as glass, lying undisturbed. Strangely, the rippling of the boats only added to the lake's beauty.

Everyone was silent, either looking around or staring at their feet. I personally loved the water; I had been on a swim team before receiving my letter. However, I saw one of the girls in another boat turning slightly green, and she was almost glaring at her feet. Shrugging in her direction, we rounded the bend to see Hogwarts. There wasn't much I could say about it, because no words could describe the amazement and awe that coursed through my body upon seeing the castle. The boats landed quietly at the other end of the lake, and students began making their way off the train, most still keeping their eyes on the magnificent castle before us. "Oy, you there!" Hagrid pointed one large finger at Neville. "Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" came the bliss shout.

"Why would anyone get a toad?" I muttered. "They're practically useless, unless you want to cut it up for potions ingredients." Harry rolled his eyes at my complaints, but I knew he secretly agreed. It's a twin thing, I think. I was still getting used to the "I have a twin" thing. Hagrid led us up a steep stone staircase, before we reached a huge, oak door. The half-giant lifted a giant fist and knocked.

The door swung open at once. It didn't swing, exactly. More of glided. The door glided open to reveal a tall, black-haired woman wearing a typical green witches robes. Her hair was up in a tight bun; not a single hair was out of place. She looked stern, and was not a teacher I would willingly cross. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here." Even her reply was controlled and demanded respect, and the sternness rolled off of her words in waves. Professor McGonagall led us through another set of doors into the Entrance Hall. This hall could probably fit two of Mother Hestia's orphanages within it, with enough room to park cars and build a playground. The hall was lit with torches, like at Gringotts, and a marble staircase led us up to another set of doors. _Just how many doors are in Hogwarts?_ I wondered absentmindedly as I walked behind Harry and Ron.

I expected to go through the set of doors, but the professor led us to a side door. Once inside, she began her speech. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly. However, before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will need to be sorted." She then went on to describe each of the four houses, talking about how "each of them had their own noble history" and produced "outstanding witches and wizards." _Right, like You-Know-Who._ It was common knowledge that You-Know-Who was from Slytherin, which was why there was such a bias against them. Although, rumors did originate from true facts...

Before I knew it, McGonagall had left, leaving a hundred confused and scared first year milling around the chamber. "How exactly do they sort us?" Harry asked, a quiver clearly heard from his voice. I snorted quietly at Ron's reply: "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said we had to fight a troll, but I think he was only joking."

"Of course he was joking," I said. "Wouldn't want to get students killed on their first day, would they? It would give the school a bad reputation. Besides, if by any chance the teachers did want to get us killed, there are more painful ways of dying then getting clubbed by a troll."

I don't think I was helping Harry very much by saying that, but the looks on their faces was too good to miss. Snickering softly, I only shrugged nonchalantly at their horrified looks. "It's true, you know. I mean, I supposed the Killing Curse wouldn't hurt too bad, but you could be killed through a potion that melted you inside out. I'm pretty sure there's an actual potion that does that. A couple Crucios would hurt like hell too. Or I supposed they could do it the old fashioned way and run you through with a sword." By then, Harry had turned porcelain, and Ron looked like he wanted to throw up. I was going to say more, but at that moment a gasp rose from the back of the group. Turning around, I had a half of mind to curse them to oblivion for interrupting my torturing session, but what I saw threw that idea out the window.

Ghosts. Real life ghosts. They floated through the wall, in all their pearly white glory, while arguing about this guy called Peeves, who was apparently causing trouble. I learned the fat monk ghost was called the Fat Friar. "Are you a wizard?" I asked him.

"Of course!" he cried. "All of us ghosts were and still are wizards."

"Then how are you a friar? Most Christians didn't like witchcraft, which was proven quite well through the Salem Witch Trails of 1692 in the American colonies. Many of the 'witches' were real witches. How were you not caught practicing witchcraft? Or were you caught? Is that how you died?" The Fat Friar looked mighty uncomfortable at all of the questions I was asking. True, they were personal questions, but if you're planning to stick around in the mortal world for the afterlife, you should at least be prepared for questioning.

Fortunately for the Fat Friar, Professor McGonagall chose to enter the chamber at that moment. She told us to line up, and we marched out of the little room; not without me glaring back at the Fat Friar. "This isn't over," I mouthed. I was curious by nature. And it's never good to deprive a hungry child of its food.

Trailing after the other students, we reached the Great Hall, and I rolled my eyes at the way many of the muggleborns' and half bloods' mouth dropped open in surprise and shock at the ceiling above. Most likely thinking _How is the sky on the roof?_ _Hogwarts, A History_ had answered that question for me.

What did shock me, though, was the talking hat. Yeah. At first glance, it didn't look like much. Just a rumpled, old wizard's hat. But that's when it opened it's mouth (which was more of a deep wrinkle in the cloth) and began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

My eyebrows raised at the odd lyrics of the hat. "Wonder how long it took him to come up with those?" I said to nobody in particular.

The Professor began calling out names, and I tuned her out as I stared around the hall. Four long tables sat parallel to each other, each representing a different house. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables seemed extremely unorganized. Many were talking "quietly" amongst themselves, while others were clearly sleeping. One couple at the Gryffindor table was making out in plain view, and I was almost tempted to stop the Sorting and call them out. Maybe add some snarky remarks too. Almost. But I decided that they weren't worth my time. They could suck their faces off for all I care.

I tuned back in when I heard "Malfoy, Draco" being called out to the hall. I watched with mild interest as the stern woman placed the hat on his platinum locks. To my surprise, the hat called "Slytherin!" before it even touched his head. I wasn't surprised by the Slytherin part, no. That was expected. But the fact that the Sorting had happened so quickly. I had expected for it to last a couple seconds, at least.

Tuning out the Sorting again, I observed the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. Both were well organized, but Slytherin more so than Ravenclaw. The Slytherins all sat with stoic expressions, and clapped politely whenever a new member joined their ranks. Hufflepuffs were known as the loyal ones, but I couldn't help but think that should one of their members come to harm, the entire house of Slytherin would get revenge.

I was torn (rather rudely, if I do say so myself) out of my thoughts when the name "Potter, Harry" rang across the hall. The result was instantaneous. Mutters broke out across the tables, and even the Slytherins showed some interest and curiosity.

Harry, now as pale as Snow White would be if she was real (sorry to burst your bubbles, but Disney isn't real), stumbled up to the stool and sat quietly as the hat was shoved onto his head. I silently applauded him for not tripping. It would've have ruined his reputation for sure. At least, among the dark and neutral families. The lights would probably just grovel at his feet and say "Oh, you adorable thing. Would you like me to kiss your booboo?" That would be something.

My twin sat on the stool for one minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Suddenly, the hat said, "Better be... GRYFFINDOR!" The table laced with red and gold roared, just like their mascot. Except their roar was more chaotic and loud than scary. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw clapped loudly for Gryffindor's new addition, while Slytherin clapped for him like they did the rest.

It was at this moment that I realized I was up next. I hadn't really thought about which house I wanted to go in. I knew Hufflepuff was out of the question. I wasn't that nice. Gryffindor was out of the picture too. I was brave, but I wasn't stupid. This left Ravenclaw and Slytherin. On one hand, Ravenclaws were smart, but they didn't really do anything with their information. They were usually neutral, if what I'd read was accurate, and hardly did anything to stand up for themselves, or others. Slytherins, on the other hand, were cunning, ambitious, and everything I was, really. They were smart, but it was more of a street smart than book smart. The only problem was that if I went there, I would be shunned by the rest of the school, and Harry would probably hate me. I knew the propaganda Ron was feeding him, and Harry was too absorbed about having a friend to notice it. If I pointed it out, he'd probably hate me. And if I was in Slytherin, he'd hate me more.

"Potter, London," I heard, and the reactions to my name were about as wild as the reaction to Harry's, except this time they weren't saying "Potter? THE Harry Potter?" They were whispering "Potter has a sister?" No, duh he has a sister. They had ears, right? Strolling casually up the stairs like I'd seen most of the pureblood heirs and heiresses do, I gracefully sank on the hard stool, before the hat was dropped over my eyes.

 _I've always wanted to meet you, Ms. Potter._ a voice whispered in my head. _Harry Potter's twin sister. Let's see how you turned out._

 _It talks,_ I said sarcastically. I didn't like the way he said "let's see how you turned out." It wasn't my fault my parents were murdered and I got tossed into an orphanage for weirdos.

 _Yes, I talk,_ the hat said, amusement clearly laced in his voice. _I think the fact that I sang a song proves that._

Dang, this hat was smart. _Do you have a brain?_

 _Yes, but that's a question for another time. Now, let's see... Hufflepuff is definitely out of the question. You are loyal, but only to those you think deserve it, which is a select few._

 _Yeah, you can't just go out giving your loyalty to random people, you know. If that was the case, we'd have a lot more Death-eaters running around free._

 _That is true,_ the hat acknowledged. _Gryffindor is also out. You are brave, but not as reckless as most of the Gryffindors._ I decided not to comment on that, because Harry was in Gryffindor. I did have a lot to say to the house of red and gold, but now probably wasn't the time.

 _So that leaves Ravenclaw and Slytherin. You are smart, but you aren't one to study all day. You are also more opinionated and outspoken than most Ravenclaws. So better be-_

 _Wait!_ I stopped the hat. Biting my lips, I continued. _But Harry will hate me! I just met my family, I don't want to loose them yet._

 _Since when did you care what others thought of you?_

 _... good point. What's your name, by the way?_

 _You can call me Genus._ Typical. A Sorting hat whose name was hat in Latin. _Do you think I could succeed in Ravenclaw?_ I had to try. I'd never had family before, and I didn't know what I would do if Harry rejected me. I didn't want to find out either.

 _Maybe,_ the hat answered.

"Slytherin!"

 _Yay, I'm done! Sorry, but this chapter isn't too long. I'm still chipping away at the_ _writer's block right now, because I write whatever I'm in the mood for. Right now, I'm in a Rise of the Guardians mood, hence my new fan fiction. I'll try to update as much as possible, still! I know some of you wanted me to put London in Ravenclaw, but it wouldn't fit in the story, as Gryffindor and Slytherin usually do things together, and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. If I put her in Ravenclaw, there wouldn't be as many encounters, some of which I want to include. Happy reading!_


	7. Chapter 6: Long Overdue

**Chapter 6: Long Overdue**

The first thing I noticed after the hat deemed me as a member of Slytherin was the defining silence. It was as much of the amount of noise as it was the lack of it, as if a death mist had shrouded everyone in its shadowy embrace and refused to let go. The students' eyes were glassy and dead, while the professors weren't faring much better. It was as if I had walked into a graveyard where the monsters of Halloween resided, and Jack Skellington had just dubbed me the heir to his position in front of the entirety of humans the monsters were meant to scare. Shuddering at the rather ominous allusion of death and monsters (had anyone ever noticed the startling resemblance between Jack Skellington and Voldemort?), I chose that time to observe my new housemates and potential friends, allies, and enemies. There was no point in checking the Gryffindor table. I could feel all of their betrayed and accusing stares drilling into my back anyway. _Who's ever heard of a Potter in Slytherin?_ Their thoughts were like projectiles, each aimed to attack my mind. It was like I could read their minds. _She's obviously going to be evil. Good thing too, now she can't corrupt the Boy-Who-Lived._ Corrupted? The idea was so preposterous I wanted to laugh. Then I wanted to scowl. They seriously thought that of me? Shaking their stinging comments out of my mind, I quickly found Pansy, Draco, Theodore, Daphne, Crabbe, and Goyle huddled in a small group near the edge of the Slytherin table. All of them had huge grins on their faces; the grins were so unnatural on their usually stoic faces that I fought the urge to cringe.

 _Well then._ Genus chose that time to speak. _Aren't you going to join your new house?_ Well, of course I was going to. I just didn't want to. Not then, anyway. However, despite my better judgement, I rose shakily from the three legged stool (how old was it anyway?), most unlike the way I'd arrived, and attempted to walk as gracefully as I could to the Slytherin table. Key word, attempted. More like stumbled. My mind was still reeling from the aftershock of talking to a hat, and basically everything I'd experienced within the past few months. A witch. Me. At that moment, I felt like my mind would explode. It was just too much for me to take. Too much information, too many strange experiences, and all of it was rushing into my conscious at once. My brain was overwhelmed and had had enough. Fortunately, I made it to the huddle of Slytherin first years and collapsing besides Daphne before my mind exploded. The Greengrass heiress patted me comfortingly on the back, as if she actually understood what I was going through. Which I doubted. How could anyone?

I sat through the rest of the Sorting in a daze, only clapping when I noticed the rest of my housemates clapping. It was like I'd eaten a bunch of sugar (which I had), and had just now experienced the effects of a sugar crash (which honestly could have been the case). Every once in a while, I'd get a comforting nudge from Daphne and a concerned glance from Malfoy. Malfoy. Now that boy was an enigma. At least, to me. I couldn't really understand him. On one hand, he was a nice guy. Not only was he handsome, but he was also kind, which greatly surprised me because I'd taken more of Ron's words to heart than I had realized. Until now. Malfoy seemed to always hold an image of arrogance and aloofness, as did most of my other pureblood acquaintances. But around me, and with his friends, I noticed how he always cared for them, and inconspicuously showed his friendship through small gestures of kindness. I'd never noticed until then how much small acts of kindness mattered. However, on the other hand, he was the son of a Death Eater (one who'd cheated justice, I might add), one of those filthy purebloods who'd served the man who killed my parents. That was reason enough to stay away from him. I had to honor my parents in some way, right? But maybe it didn't have to be in that form...?

It was then Gandalf-I mean, _Dumbledore_ (my bad) rose from his extravagant golden throne of a seat and opened his arms wide like he wanted to hug the entire student body. I had a half mind to stand and shout, "No thank you." But I figured I'd probably embarrassed myself enough for that night, so I stayed seated as he welcomed all the students back to Hogwarts. "Welcome to Hogwarts!" said he. "A new year has come blah blah blah." He didn't say much; only some rather offensive words that somehow magiced food.

"What in Merlin's name," I muttered as I piled some mashed potatoes and chicken onto my plate. "That guy is crazy. I'm not even surprised anymore." Pansy snorted as she piled some fried chicken onto her plate. "I'm still surprised you haven't figured that out yet," she told me. "But I suppose living with muggles really did something to your brain."

"Thanks, Pansy. I feel so loved" came my sarcastic reply. "'Course, I spent some time with Weasley over there, so excuse me if I'm still a little barmy in the head." The purebloods around me laughed, and some began to taunt the Weasley family. "They used to be respected, you know," Malfoy whispered to me. "The Weasleys. But they chose to shun wizard tradition and began living like muggles. With Arthur Weasley the muggle lover as their head... their family is very poor. They can barely afford new robes." I hummed in agreement as I chewed thoughtfully on a large spoonful of peas. I suppose it made sense. Ron seemed to have been very particular about money on the train.

"What about classes?" I asked. "Of course, I know the basics like Transifguration, Charms, Potions, and that kind of stuff, but others can we learn?"

"Trying to gorge yourself with knowledge, Potter?" a rather large girl sneered. "Maybe you should have been in Ravenclaw. No Potter belongs in Slytherin." Curling my lips in distaste, I turned to glare at the girl who had talked. She was large, extremely buff, and looked like a female version of Crabbe and Goyle. "And you are...?"

"Malificent Bulstrode," she smirked. "From the Noble house of Bulstrode." In truth, I did not understand why Malificent Bulstrode had tagged on "the noble house of Bulstrode" at the end. Was it anything important? Thankfully before I could think of a response, Malfoy stepped in. "The Potters are a Most Ancient and Most Noble House, Bulstrode. Thus, she holds more power than you in the Wizemgamot," he said. "You would do well not to insult your betters." Bulstrode and Malfoy continued to argue, and I decided to ignore them. For once, I was very confused, and I knew it would get me killed someday. I resolved to find out as much as I could about these wizard customs; even though they were probably outdated, it was vital that I knew about my own world. Survival instincts and all that.

"Hello," Daphne smiled kindly. "My name is Daphne Greengrass, heiress of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass. I see you are a little lost."

"Lost is an understatement," I mumbled through a mouthful of food. Swollowing, I continued, "Everything is so confusing. My whole life I lived in a muggle orphanage. I didn't know anything about magic. Then, Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore came to my room one day and told me I was a witch. It was all so sudden, and I think the adrenaline of the excitement has left. Now I feel tired, and confused, and shocked, and-"

"You're rambling, London," she chuckled quietly. "It is okay to feel the way you do. You are new to this world. If I hadn't grown up in this world, I'm sure I'd feel the same way as you. As such, I probably would feel like you if I entered the muggle world. What is a 'car?' I heard that the new moving transportation is no longer called the horseless carrage." Snorting softly, I proceeded to explain all about technology that muggles had created. In fact, the one thing I missed about the muggle world was the television. And car. And the pen. The muggle world was so much more modern, I told Daphne, and it was like a whole other world.

Dinner turned to dessert, and I started on a piece of treacle tart before telling Daphne about the phone. "It's a little device, like the TV, but it's able to communicate. You can send messages in an instant, and the other person would receive in a second!" I said, waving my hands around. "Compared to owl-post, texting on a phone is much more convenient."

"I can imagine," Daphne said, her eyes wide. I assumed that in all of her life, she had never heard of something like that. Pureblood supremecy sure did cloud a lot of people's judgement. It was at that time that Dumbledore chose to rise. He told us to sing a dreadful song (whose lyrics I will not repeat), which ended with two red haired twins from Gryffindor (Weasley, I guessed), and sent us off to bed. "Come along, follow me!" a tall Slytherin girl shouted over the din of the crowd. "Slytherin first years, follow me to your common room!" Standing up, Daphne and I were joined by another girl ("Tracy Davis"), and we followed the prefect with the pretty badge down into the dungeons. Shivering slightly, I pulled my robes around me tighter and made sure not to stare too much. Getting lost in the dungeons would be horrible; who knows how far the dungeons extended.

We stopped in front of a wall, and just as the first years began to feel restless with uncertainty the prefect turned to face us. "I am Prefect Gemma Farley, and this is the entrance to the common room." Ignoring the scoffs of disbelief, she said, "The password is 'basilisk,' and the password will change every month. Be sure to check the board to see the new password. Anyone who forgets the password will be forced to stand outside until someone feels sympathetic enough to let them in. Let that be a lesson of survival to you, little snakes. Come along." The wall had opened during her short warning, and I followed my fellow Slytherins inside. The common room was an interesting sight. Covered in lavish tapestries and plush couches, large fireplaces and soft carpets, the room, accented in green and silver, seemed to almost... flow. A soft humming could be heard all around, but I could not find the source of the humming. "Before you go upstairs," the prefect told us, "you must wait for Professor Snape, our head of House. He will give you a welcome speech and some important notices."

Seemingly appearing, the black-robed professor who I had called "Batman-gollum" the first time I met him stepped into the common room. Snape seemed to have a presence that demanded attention, his sharp eyes daring anyone to step out of line. I was almost tempted to do it, just to see what would happen, but decided my hide was more important that my curiousity. Stepping in front of the fire, Snape began his speech: "Welcome to Slytherin. This is the house of the cunning and ambitious. Our founder, Salazar Slytherin, was the most cunning of all the founders. We value people who become leaders, people who look for greatness; not Hufflepuff followers. A few rules: first, _Slytherins care for their own._ Here, you will never find a Slytherin on his or her own. If you have a bone to pick with a Slytherin, keep it within the common room. Outside, you will retain a united front. Anyone caught otherwise will be... severely punished," he said silkily, as if punishment wasn't such a big deal.

"We are not Gryffindor dunderheads who charge into danger and end up getting killed. We are not Hufflepuff humdingers who are content to sit behind someone else's shadow. We are also not Ravenclaw stuckups who spend their entire life wasting away in the library. No, we are Slytherin, the ones who think before they act, push others into their shadows, and spend their lives doing something great. I expect all of you to study hard and make Slytherin house proud. If you need help, ask. I will not allow anyone do disgrace this house. Am I understood?" A chorus of "Yes, Professor Snape"s echoed across the common room. Said professor's dark eyes swept across the room; I thought he seemed to stare at me longer, but he marched out before I could get a proper glance.

"Well, he's cheery," I muttered, thinking back to the first time I met him. Maybe he was a "Batman-gollum" after all; creepy, shrunken skin, large cloak, and all. All eyes turned to look at me; "What? Just trying to pick up the mood." Shaking my head at their obliviousness, I turned and walked into the hallway where the first year dorms were located. On each door was a placard that had the names of the inhabitants inside. I walked to the door that had "London Potter, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson" on it and entered.

The theme of the room was pretty much the same, green and silver being the main colors. Looking around, I spotted my trunk at the bottom of the bed closest to the window. Outside, I could see the merky waters of the Black Lake, and started as a flash of silver caught my eyes. "There... doesn't happen to be anything living in the lake, is there?" I asked meekly as I heard the door open.

"Unfortunately, there are," Pansy's amused voice said. "I'm not sure of everything, but I know there are mermen living in the lake, and a giant squid."

"Crap." I could just imagine mermen looking in as I slept, and the Giant Squid wrapping his tentacles around the dungeon and pulling it into the depths of the lake... Shaking my head to rid myself of my over-the-top imagination, I grabbed my clothes and went in search of the bathroom. After taking a nice shower, I felt refreshed and made my way back. Halfway there, I caught sight of Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have just taken a shower as well. He was dressed in silk pajamas and nodded upon spotting me, before entering the door that said "Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini" on it. I, too, entered my room and found the other girls chatting.

The others took note of my pajamas, before Pansy asked, "Why are you wearing pants?"

"It's pajamas," I explained, not sure what was wrong. "You sleep in them."

"Silly," she said. "Where's your nightgown?"

"I've never had any," I admitted, embarrassed. Daphne and Pansy were both dressed in silk nightgowns, similar to Draco's. Daphne's was a soft blue that matched her eyes; it was decorated with small birds and trimmed with lace. Pansy's was a forest green that complimented her hair; it had black flower embroidered onto it and silver trimmings. They wore what only rich purebloods could afford to sleep in. Standing there in my worn pajama top and pants, printed with faded falling leaves, I felt inferior to my friends. It was the first time I felt insecure, other than the time I met Harry, and I didn't like it. "No matter," Pansy sniffed. "I'll just ask Mother to mail me some. You can have some, if you like."

"No, I didn't mean-" I stammered, flushing an ugly red. I had never tried to hint that I wanted something other than my poor, ripped clothes. However, it was true that I did want something nicer than what I had. If I'd been asked to attend a wizarding event, all I would have proper enough to wear was my school robes. But that didn't mean I wanted Pansy's! Or anyone else's, for that matter. "I can just buy my own."

"Nonsense." This was Daphne. "You're our friend. We have plenty of clothes to spare, anyway. I'll ask Mother as well, we can mail it tomorrow, Pansy. I'm sure that should be plenty of time. And perhaps some dress robes, nice, emerald green ones that match her eyes..." Daphne was standing now, and assessing my figure and features. "Perhaps some black ones would be nice, or auburn? What do you think?" My friends had that glint I'd only seen in some of the younger maids when they were about to go shopping. I only stood, helpless and confused, and let them chatter on about what robes would match my eyes, or which would fit me best.

At that moment, Draco decided to make his entrance, and I could tell from his amused yet startled expression that he found the situation strange. "What... are you doing, Greengrass? Pansy?"

"We're doing girl stuff, Draco," Pansy tittered. "Things you wouldn't understand."

"Well..." he seemed at loss of words. "You may want to head to bed soon. Breakfast is at 8:15 tomorrow, and we have class."

"Alright, we'll head off to bed soon," Daphne waved him off. "Go away."

"Fine," he huffed. "Good night."

"Bye," I tried waving, but failed for fear that I would hit Pansy's face.

"Bye," he waved (successfully). "By the way, I like your pajamas." He winked (for the second time that day) and closed the door.

"Oh. My. Gods," I groaned, covering my face. "Why is everyone noticing my pajamas?" It seemed like the day would never end. Pansy snorted gleefully and practically sung, "Potter's got an admirerer!"

"Shut up, Pansy," I hissed, though my face was beet red.

"I've got all the notes down," Daphne interrupted. "We can owl our mothers tomorrow. But Malfoy's right, we have classes tomorrow. Best get to bed."

I quickly flopped onto my bed. Sharo snaked up beside me and curled around my pillow. Ignoring the curious stares of my roommates, now friends, I allowed myself one last thought (Could I charm the leaves on my pjs to move?) before the golden sand of the Sandman knocked me out.

That night, I dreamed of a lone boy in a blue hoodie, ragged deerskin leggings, and a frosted shepherd's crook throwing snowballs and creating sledding hills for children that never spared him a glance. It was only after a cute brunette of about nine walked right through the white haired, blue eyed spirit that I learned that he was invisible; they could not see him.

 _Yay, I'm done! I know this is really late, and I mean **really** late. I have no excuse, but I finally got it done. I hoped you liked the little ROTG that I ended at the end. I think I'm going to have her dream about Jack often, and his story (before being discovered by the Guardians and whatnot), but they're never going to meet. At least, in this story. Maybe I'll create a one-shot after this story that shows them meeting, and her becoming his first believer. This would all be before ROTG, so he had no believers at this time. Happy reading!_


	8. Chapter 7: Constant Vigilance

**Chapter 7: Constant Vigilance**

My first few days at Hogwarts were rather strange. First, there were the lessons. There was no math, or English, or science like there was at my old elementary school, but this was Hogwarts. It was to be expected, after all. I just didn't expect it to be so different. At Hogwarts, there were classes like Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy. The last three were more of what I was used to, but were still strange because they were _magical_ classes that discussed all things magic.

Transfiguration was taught by Professor McGonagall, the woman who had met us at the Sorting the first night. Like I had thought, she was an extremely strict woman who took absolutely no nonsense whatsoever. The moment we sat down in class with the Ravenclaws, she immediately gave us a talking-to: "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Despite the rather ominous start to the class, I rather liked Transfiguration. Even though we had to take a lot of notes, the practical portion was enjoyable and fun. By the end of class, I was able to make my matchstick look all silver and pointy, and though there was no eye Professor McGonagall complimented my needle in front of the class. She gave Slytherin 10 points, and gave me a smile that looked unusual on her usually stern face.

That was one of the things I most enjoyed about Transfiguration; Professor McGonagall was not biased at all. She treated everyone equally, only judging them on their performance in her class, and didn't bat an eyelash when she heard she would have a Slytherin Potter in her class. She was, dare I say, _nice_ to me, giving me pointers, but other than that, I was just like every other student in the class.

Professor Flitwick, who taught Charms, was a tiny, little wizard (part goblin?) who was easily excited. He stood on a pile of large books and taught class with enthusiasm. I liked the tiny Professor as well. At the beginning of that class, he started slightly when he reached my name for role, but he skipped over it without any more reactions, and for that I was grateful. In Charms, we also started small. Mostly practicing a "swish and flick!" wand movement, which Professor Flitwick claimed was a wand movement to a spell we would practice in a few days. I resolved myself to find that particular spell and _practice_ it, so I could do it come Friday. Flitwick was also rather unbiased. We had Charms with the Hufflepuffs, and he treated all his students the same. Each person gained equal amounts of praise, and even Ernie Macmillan, who kept setting his cloak sleeve on fire poor kid, received praise for finally not setting anything on fire.

Herbology was not a subject I enjoyed, simply because plants didn't like me and I didn't like them either. These magical plants didn't react much to me, but they were also in dirt, and I _hated_ dirt. From the reactions of my fellow Slytherins, I could tell they agreed with my sentiment of having dirt on their hands. The teacher, Professor Sprout, was a plumb lady, like Mother Hestia, but unlike Mother Hestia she was cheerful and willing to help when there were problems. I didn't like Herbology, but Professor Sprout was okay.

History of Magic was the most boring class. Professor Binns was a ghost, and easily the most interesting thing that happened in that class was when the Professor entered through the chalk board. The story apparently goes that Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire. He had gotten up the next morning to teach and left his body behind him. His lessons were extremely boring, focused primarily on the Goblin Wars. He droned on about Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball, and I saw my classmates drop like flies. Even the Gryffindors, who we shared the class with, didn't take any jabs at my housemates; we were all too bored.

But the classes themselves weren't all Hogwarts had. According to one bushy-haired know-it-all, there were exactly one hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts. Some were sturdy, some were not. Others had trick steps, led somewhere different on a certain day, and some weren't even stairs at all. The doors were weird too; you had to ask politely to some, tickle some in the right places, and some, like the stairs, weren't doors; merely walls that were pretending to be doors. I asked Daphne if Hogwarts was a sentient being, something that wasn't alive but had a mind of its own, but she didn't know. She only told me that Hogwarts was a mystery, hiding the secrets of the Founders themselves, and it was quite possible it was alive, feeding off the magic of its (her?) students.

In honesty, I didn't think too much about it. It was the ghosts that particularly worried me. Peeves, the poltergeist, was the bane of many people's existence. While Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, was willing to help any student get to class, Peeves did everything in his power to make them late. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott arrived late for Herbology because of Peeves; they were drenched in water, from balloons Peeves had dropped on them.

Even worse, according to the older students, was the caretaker, Argus Filch, and his cat Mrs. Norris. Argus Filch, the upper Slytherins had said, was a Squib, someone born in a magical family without magic. He was jealous of the students' ability to do what he could not, and tried everything to get them into trouble. His cat was a mini devil. Mrs. Norris was a scrawny thing, couldn't even be called a cat anymore, and if you stepped one toe out of line she'd whisk away and return with Filch two seconds later. The duo was despised by the entire school, and Pansy, the eloquent Queen she was, swore she would kick Mrs. Norris, if only to see her look of pain on that pudgy cat face of hers.

The one class that puzzled me extremely was Defense Against the Dark Arts. I say this last because Professor Quirrel, who we'd met at Diagon Alley, was just as peculiar as I thought he was. His turban was a gift from an African prince for getting rid of a zombie, he said, but nobody believed him because the Professor seemed scared of his own shadow. His classroom reeked of garlic and spices; the Weasley twins claimed it was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was scared would come back and get him. I had raised my eyebrows at that: just how much of muggle myths were actually true?

Friday was the day that I made it to the Great Hall all by myself. To others, it wasn't much of an accomplishment, but I was proud of myself for finding my way in this labyrinth of a castle. "What do we have today?" I asked Daphne, grabbing a bowl of porridge and sprinkling sugar over it.

"We've got Potions today," Daphne replied. "Double Potions with the Gryffindors."

"It's taught by our head of House, Professor Snape," Pansy butted in, buttering her toast. "He favors the Slytherins and hates Gryffindors. I'm looking forward to seeing it."

I frowned. "Isn't favoritism not allowed?" I asked. "At my muggle school, teachers showing favoritism would be fired, usually because students would complain they were being unfair."

"It's not that bad," Pansy waved my concern aside. "It's not like that. The Gryffindors never bother to review before going to class. Professor Snape is really strict about whose in his class. Only the best can stay. He's just teaching the Gryffindors how to open a book and preview before entering a class."

That made me relax. So our Head of House wasn't actually biased like everyone had said. "Thank the gods." Malfoy shot me a curious look, and I elaborated. "I was worried that Snape-"

"Professor Snape, Potter," he reminded, but I ignored him.

"I was worried that Snape would be extremely biased," I confessed. "And I don't like biased teachers. At my muggle school, there was always one teacher who showed favoritism, and it was always to the people who bullied me. So, whenever I tried to get help, they wouldn't listen because 'they obviously couldn't have done anything wrong, could they?' They all had alibis, there were five of them and one of me, and nobody believed me because I was the bad kid! Which is so stupid because I was the best kid in my class! _I_ was the one who got all As. _I_ was the one who always volunteered to help. But it doesn't matter, does it? Because they _didn't like me._ What does it matter that I was better? It didn't, because they didn't like me and it was their opinion that truly mattered." I hadn't realized that I was ranting until finishing. I caught the stunned expressions of my friends (were they really my friends?) and I blushed, feeling very embarrassed and foolish. _Slytherins aren't supposed to show their emotions,_ I scolded myself, angry that I had forgotten something so simple. _Stupid! Now they'll think you're some kind of Gryffindor!_

 _Not that being a Gryffindor is all that bad,_ I added as an afterthought, thinking of my brother. I glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where Harry was chatting happily with Weasley and some of his housemates. He didn't seem to miss me at all. It wasn't like I hadn't tried to talk to him, because I had. But every time I tried, Harry would turn around and ignore me. Weasley would glare at the green and silver on my robes, and would then proceed to pull Harry away. It left a bad taste in my mouth, the fact that my own blood thought so low of me just because of who I was. _He's just like everyone else,_ I thought bitterly. _Just like everyone else who thinks I'm some kind of bad egg._ Like my friends, my only friends who had accepted me with open arms, would soon think of me.

So deep was I in my thoughts that I did not notice Daphne was talking until she called my name. "I'm sorry?" I blinked, feeling so slow and stupid.

"London," she said, giving me this look I had never seen on anybody's face before. "We didn't know you thought that way. We're sorry for the way those _muggles_ ," she spat out the word, "treated you. They're muggles, uneducated and barbaric. The magic world is different. People are biased for a _reason_ ," she emphasized reason, "here, and we all care for one another."

"When you think that, come to me," Pansy ordered, going all mother-hen. "And don't think we're going to abandon you for your thoughts, because if you do I will whack you with your potions textbook!" Nodding quickly, I spared a glance at the rest of my friends, who I'd come to treasure during my time at Hogwarts. Each one was looking at me with the same look Daphne had, and I asked, "Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

They looked confused for a moment, before Blaise chuckled softly. "It's called fondness, London," he said. "I doubt those muggles ever treated you like that, but fondness means we enjoy your company, and that we like you for you. You don't have to worry about us pushing you away, because we like you for being yourself, and we wouldn't like you if you were anything other than London Potter." His kind and wise words startled me, and I blinked at him many times before speaking the first thing on my mind: "Since when did you become so Ravenclaw, Blaise? You're like a mini Dumbledore." Blaise gagged at being compared to Dumbledore and I snickered behind my plate of breakfast. We joked through the daily mail delivery (I didn't notice that Hedwig, Harry's owl, had dropped him an letter while mine did not come); It felt good to let go for once and not be worried about being judged.

After breakfast I headed down to the dungeons with the other Slytherins. We got there earlier than the Gryffindors, who arrived talking loudly a few minutes before class began. I'd taken to avoiding the Gryffindors whenever possible. Their glares weren't scary (not compared to Daphne's, by any chance), but it got uncomfortable after a while. When Harry came down with Ron, I turned away and struck up a conversation with Pansy. Now was not the time to meet.

Pansy was prattling along about a dress brand that I wasn't particularly interested in when I spotted Harry and a few other Gryffindors heading our way. I stiffened, noting the mischevious grins on the boys' faces along with the snickering and whispering. "They're planning something," I muttered, just loud enough for Pansy to hear. She turned around and saw what I had seen. The only difference was that she began to grin. Evily. It was so creepy that I cringed away from her; who knew Slytherins could be _so_ scary? "Hey, Draco?" she said sweetly, turning to bat her eyelashes at the grey-eyed boy. "We have some company." Draco turned his head and smirked as he saw the approaching Gryffindors. He quickly nudged Crabbe and Goyle along with the other Slytherin boys, and they had all turned towards the Gryffindors as they finally met near the potions classroom door.

I turned my head left and right and noticed the sneaky and malevolent glares in each boys' eyes. At that moment, I began to feel nervous. Not the nervous that you feel before a test or important sports game, but the nervous you feel when there's a pond of adrenaline bubbling inside your stomach and you know something big is going to happen soon. It's the grumbling nervousness at the base of your throat that is what I imagine you would feel if a gun was pointed at your head. The silence was so long and so loud that I felt like my eardrums was going to pop. I prayed for Professor Snape to just show up so I could hide behind my cauldron and avoid all of this mess that I knew I had inadvertently created.

Fortunately, my prayers were answered and the potions professor showed up in all of his bat-like glory (seriously. His cape belowed and everything). He stared down his hooked nose at all of us, and I saw his eyes land a second longer on Harry and me. "Just what," he drawled slowly and dramatically in a true Slytherin fashion, "do you think you're all doing?" None of the Slytherins said a word, but they didn't need to. The professor was looking specifically at the Gryffindors, his black eyes glittering wickedly like beetles. Weasley glared savagely at Snape, but didn't dare say a word. Harry finally spoke up. "Nothing, professor," he said. He eyed Snape steadily and confidently, and I couldn't help but admire his courage. _That's why he's a Gryffindor and I'm not,_ I thought flintily as the Slytherin Head of House assured as all into his classroom. I took a seat next to Daphne and carefully stacked all of my potions books to the side of my cauldron. My wand I set in front of me in easy reach. I wasn't sure whether or not I'd need it, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Professor Snape began the class with role call, and as he called "Brown, Lavender" and "Thomas, Dean", I started as I realized Potions was the first class I had with the Gryffindors. I frowned, not sure if this was a good or bad thing, but soon drew my attention back to the front as the professor began his lecture on the overview of the class. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. His voice was very soft, almost a whisper, but like McGonagall, Snape had the special ability that some teachers are gifted with: he was able to keep a class silent without any effort at all. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic." Upon hearing this sentence, I made to put my wand away; Daphne stopped me with a hand on my arm, silently telling me moving now would not be wise. I froze and settled back down as I felt Snape's eyes on me. He then continued. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering caudlron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep throguh human veins, bewitching the mind, ensaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death..." I was able to stop myself from rolling my eyes at the ballad Snape had just spoken about potion making, but really did roll my eyes at Snape's next statement: "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

 _Well, that's nice,_ I grimaced as I readied my quill. _I suppose I'll just have to not be a dunderhead then._ Almost everyone ignored Hermione Granger sitting one row behind me, who looked like what I thought a dodo bird would look like as she bounced up and down in her seat. Draco rolled his eyes at the girl, and leaned over to whisper in Blaise's ear. Daphne and I exchanged looks with raised eyebrows as she made a face at Granger's desperation to prove that she wasn't a dunderhead. Out of the corner of my eyes, I observed Harry and Ron exchanging similar glances, though probably for different reasons. Neville Longbottom, sitting next to her, looked fearfully at both Granger and Snape, as if not knowing who he should be more afraid of.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly, causing me to jump and straighten in my chair (orphanage posture training is so useful in these situations). Harry and I shared glances for the first time since the Sorting, and surprisingly it wasn't a hostile one. It was more of a shocked look, like _What the hell is going on._ I peeked behind my curls at Harry with large eyes and he shrugged, glowering a little at Snape's almost triumphant expression. "Male Potter," he enunciated, and I sent Harry a sympathetic glance as he straightened his back. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape drawled, leaning one hand against his desk (Snape seemed to drawl a lot these days). _Powdered root of asphodel... infusion of wormwood..._ I wracked my brain for the answer, and realized that Snape was naming a mixture known as the Draught of Living Death. I looked expectantly at Harry and was startled when he said, "I don't know, sir." I winced as Snape smirked and said, "Fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?" What really struck me was that I had been thinking _the exact same thing_ when I had heard through Draco that Harry had somehow gotten ten points from Quirrel for doing nothing but being in the class.

"Let's try again." Snape seemed to enjoy humiliating my brother, and it was kind of pissing me off. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezeor?" This one was a easy question, found in chapter 1 of the potions textbook. _In the stomach of a goat_ , I chanted in my head, silently seeing if I could telepathically transfer my knowledge to Harry. I'd read somewhere that some twins can talk between themselves through telepathy, and decided now was as good of a time as to test out that theory. It didn't work apparently, because Harry once again said, "I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" taunted Snape, readying himself for another question. I felt my left eyebrow twitch as I watched Snape through narrowed eyes. I was no Mary Sue (a term for a fanfiction character who was aboslutely perfect - I mean, just look at my face, I don't look amazing in the least), but I did have morals, and I was really curious as to why Snape felt the need to shame my brother in front of the class (with Slytherin, of all houses). The song "You're a mean one, Mr. Filch," a variation of "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch" made by a particularly troublesome muggleborn, began playing in my head for some reason, and I amused myself with changing a lyrics to my own song: "You're a mean one, Mr. Snape."

Snape's final question was a trick question, since monkshood and wolfsbane are different names for the same plant, also known as aconite. Harry didn't know that one either, but it seemed like he was so feed up with being belittled by a teacher that he said the first thing that came to mind: "I don't know, but I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Daphne and I turned around to see Hermione shrink into her chair. She looked embarrassed, and I wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for her or feel happy that she wasn't jumping up and down behind me anymore. I was a little worried for Harry though, because Snape was _not_ amused. His face looked like it had when I first met him (aka incredibly Gollum-like), and I could almost imagine him as a little hobit-looking thing with sharp teeth and crazy eyes. _Crap,_ I gulped as Snape advanced on Harry's much smaller figure. _Harry, you've really done it now._

Fortunately, all Snape did was take on point from Gryffindor for his cheek, but I couldn't relax yet. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief Snape turned on me and snapped, "Female Potter!" _Crap,_ I thought again, for once wishing I could become invisble (trust me, being invisible isn't all it's cracked up to be). "Let's see if Slytherin Potter isn't as pathetic as her Gryffindor brother." Ignoring the conspicuous jab at my brother and the snickering of Maleficent Bulstrode, I sat up in my chair and spoke confidently. "If you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, you would get a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death," I said, looking straight ahead. "The bezeor can be found in the stomach of a goat as it is a stone found there, and it can cure most poisons. Finally, there is no different between monkshood and wolfsbane since they are the same plant, also known as aconite." I was very proud of myself after my explanations because I believed I'd put them eloquently and concisely, plus with all of the right answers. Snape seemed satisfied with my answers too, because he merely sneered at the Gryffindors to copy down the information they hadn't bothered to study at the beginning of the year.

The rest of potions went pretty well for the Slytherins. The same couldn't be said for the Gryffindors. Snape paired us into groups of two and had us make a cure of boils. He constantly insulted students, and the only person he really seemed to like was Draco (though Pansy had told me on our way to the potions classroom that Draco was Snape's godson, so that might be why). Daphne told me the cure for boils was a rather simple potion and didn't require much talent or effort. Of course, somebody botched up their potion, and it just happened to be Longbottom. Apparently he'd added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off of the fire like he was supposed to do. "Idiot boy!" snarled Snape as he cleaned the spilled solution with a flick of his wand. He ordered Seamus Finnigan, who Longbottom had been paired with, to take the poor boy (who by then was drenched in his own spoiled potion and covered in boils) to the Hospital Wing, and proceeded to accuse Harry for intentionally failing to warn Longbottom on the dangers of botching his potion. It was a petty move on Snape's part in my opinion, and I still didn't understand why Snape hated Harry so much.

By the time class was over the Gryffindors were all extremely annoyed and frightened, and when the bell rang signaling the end of class all of the red and gold lions bolted for the door. They scrambled out by twos and threes, and not a single Gryffindor was left by the time the first Slytherin began trickling out of the classroom. Wiping some sweat off of my forehead with a sleeve, I made my way out of the classroom with Daphne, Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Theodore Nott, who I hadn't talked to much yet. When I left, I felt eyes drilling into my back, but when I turned around nobody was there.

I was in high spirits by the time I reached the Great Hall for lunch. After lunch was free period, and I could spend the time doing anything I wanted. I had a few choices in mind, exploring the castle, checking out the library, and finishing homework being the top three, but then decided I should visit Hagrid. Although I hadn't really been that close or especially polite to the man and most of the Slytherins didn't like him, I thought I owed it to myself and Hagrid himself to go visit and say hi. _Even if he doesn't like me very much_ , I thought, remembering Hagrid's reaction to Slytherins. It definitely hadn't been pretty.

 _But first things first,_ I reminded myself. _Lunch, homework, then Hagrid's._

Lunch was a joyous affair with lots of fun and joking around. At one point I shoved a piece of bread into Draco's mouth to make him shut up, and he looked so disgruntled, like a dog dunked in water, that I burst out laughing. After lunch, I finished my Transfiguration and Charms homework before deciding I would procrastinate on my Herbology homework. It was almost three, so I decided to make my way down to Hagrid's then. It didn't take very long to get there, and Hagrid's hut was very quaint and nice. It was a small wooden house built on the edge of the Forbidden Forest and looked very cozy and warm to live in. I knocked twice on the door before stepping back. I felt very awkward and a little anxious, and the feeling was so foreign to me that I blinked. I realized that over the past week I had come to rely heavily on my friends. Although back in Mother Hestia's Orphanage I'd always been a bit of a loner, even in orphan standards, I now had a group I could trust and let go with. It was a nice feeling, but I also wasn't sure it was a good idea to be so reliant on a group of people. Even though I learned that my parents hadn't really abandonned me, the emotions still stuck and it was hard for me to feel like I could fully trust anyone without giving a part of me away.

I was ripped from my thoughts when I heard scuffling and several very loud barks behind the door. Startled, I stumbled back a little as Hagrid's large, hairy face appeared in a crack of the doorway along with the face of a large, black boarhound. The half-giant seemed surprised to see me and I tried my best to look like the younger children during the adoption "ceremonies." They always looked very cute and innocent, much unlike my cold and blank face, and I decided that if children could use the look to such a degree, then so could I. "Hello, Hagrid," I waved, smiling as happily as I could. "I just wanted to stop by and say hi."

Hagrid seemed stumped. He looked down at the green and silver on my robes, then down at Fang, then back at my earnest face (which I hoped looked angelic and trustworthy). He then broke into a huge grin and hugged me tightly around the middle. Choking as I desperately tried to breath, I hesitantly patted Hagrid's large shoulder and gasped, "Hagrid... can't... breath!" The gentle man set me down and grinned broadly down at my coughing figure. I grinned sheepishly up at him as I tried to hide the pain in my aching sides. "London! Haven' seen ye in a while. Thought you woul'da visited me sometime, eh?"

"Sorry," I said. "Got caught up in, you know, classes and stuff." Hagrid only laughed and assured me into the house. It was just as nice on the inside as it was on the outside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling along with some magical ingrediants like unicorn hair. A rather banged up copper kettle hang above the open fire in small fireplace, and in the corner was a large bed with a patchwork on it. All in all, it was a place I would have liked to live in during summer vacations if I was rich enough to own a summer home. "This is really nice, Hagrid," I praised genuinely. I was pretty sure he'd built most of the house by hand (since he had indierctly stated he'd been expelled from Hogwarts and had his wand snapped at Ollivanders), and it was a very impressive, nice little place. "Thanks, London," he said as he stooped over the fire. "Make yerself at home." That's when I stopped short, for there, sitting in two chairs around Hagrid's little wooden table, was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the two people I most certainly did not want to meet.

 _Constant_ _vigilance, my crazy third grade teacher always used to say,_ I reflected grimly as I saw Harry's eyes spot mine. _In retrospect, maybe she did have more brain cells than I gave her credit for._

 _Okay, so I finished! I'm sorry I took so long, but I procrastinated and felt like I needed a break from this story. I'll probably be updating more often now that it's almost summer, but don't count on too many rapid-fire updates. I do have "A Bubble's Lifestory" though, which I probably will be updating at a faster pace since it is based on my real friends so I have more inspiration to go off of. Please check that one out too! It's a HP and PJ crossover, featuring my friends and me in the Harry Potter and Percy Jackson universes! I'll showcase our personalities, humors, inside jokes, and a lot of sarcasm and messing things up for the main characters. Also, if anyone says London Potter is a Mary Sue, please tell me how I can improve! I initially didn't want this, but I kind of have a feeling that she's becoming a sort of perfect character. I hope not, but please tell me if you think this is happening! Thank you for your support, and I promise I will update again soon._


	9. Chapter 8: The Great Epiphany

**Chapter 8: The Great** **Epiphany**

Harry, upon seeing me, blinked, and then his eyes widened dramatically. I would have been amused if I didn't feel so awkward. Although Hagrid had invited me to "make myself at home" as I recalled, I wasn't comfortable sitting anywhere close to Weasley or my former brother (I'd sort of mentally disowned Harry after a while of him ignoring me). Hagrid, bless his kind but ignorant soul, didn't seem to notice the tension and went back to checking his (rock?) cakes and the tea.

Weasley, predictable as always, broke the silence, sneering, "What is _she_ doing here?!"

"Nice to see you've been doing well too, Weasley," I rolled my eyes. "As if _I_ want to be seen anywhere around _you_."

The youngest Weasley ignored me in favor of sharing (or trying to) a glance of resentment with Harry. He, for some reason, was looking at me with an unreadable expression, like he'd never really seen me before. I ignored him in favor of glaring back at the annoying red-head next to him, who was squinting at the silver and green on my uniform. "You know," he said slowly while he glanced at my Slytherin scarf. "I never knew why some people are proud to be in such a evil and foul house as Slytherin. Everyone knows that You-Know-Who was from there, along with Bellatrix Lestrange and all those other Death Eater scum. Thank god they're in Azkaban, wouldn't want them escaping to kill even more families, now would we?"

"Eloquent as always, Weasley," I shot back, fuming now. How _dare_ he open that disgusting mouth of his to badmouth the only people who had ever accepted me? Not even Weasley himself had been as friendly to me as Draco had been when we'd first met on the train. "But I don't think you shoud be talking. You know, I never knew why some people are proud to be in such a pompous and pretentious house as Gryffindor. 'House of the brave' my arse. You guys couldn't even face down a mountain troll without wetting your pants, let alone know how to defeat it. All you guys are are arrogent jerks who go looking for attention. 'Mum, I saved my little sister from a thorn bush!'" I raised my voice to a high pitched sound to match my words. "You want talk about brave? How about this," I hissed, eyes in slits and voice low. "How would you feel if your kind, loving parents abandonned you? 'Oh, Ronald has no talent, we don't need a son like him holding our other sons back from their fruitful futures,'" I snarked. "You. Know. _Nothing._ So stop pretending like you're some big shot whose better than the rest of us. Being 'Harry Potter's best friend' isn't going to cut it, and someday you're going to find yourself in the dust because you were too lazy to pick up your bum and actually try to succeed like everyone else." I'd purposely left out the part of the Slytherins becoming my only family, since I knew they wouldn't care anyways, and I felt that it was a part of me that I wanted to keep to myself.

"Besides," I smirked suddenly, surprising both boys. This was a trump card I knew would knock Weasley off of his pedestal. Draco had mentioned it many times in his rants against Harry and Weasley, and I knew it would piss Weasley off. "from what I've heard, your parents aren't the most prosperous."

"Enough, London," Harry said quietly, and green clashed with green as I stared him in the eye. I'd always imagined what it would be like when we finally looked eachother in the eye and had a heart-to-heart conversation. It had always scared me, because I wasn't sure what would happen or what I would say. Now, I wasn't scared. I'm sure Pansy would have scolded me about acting "too Gryffindor" if she were there, but she wasn't and I was mad. "Shut it, _Potter,_ " I snarled, snapping my eyes shut and balling my hands into fists.

At that moment, when I was just _so angry_ , I'd forgotten I was a Potter; I had never felt like one anyway. All I'd ever known about my parents were that they were _brave_ , _clever,_ and _admired_ Gryffindors who had made their teachers proud. Harry Potter, the "wonderful" Boy-Who-Lived, had followed in his parents' footsteps and everyone knew he'd be just as _brave_ as his parents. Then there was me: Slytherin Potter, the disappointment that surely would have been disowned if Lily and James Potter were still alive.

That was what hurt most: the idea that my parents would have been disappointed and angry with me for being myself. It was always a question that lurked at the back of my mind, like "How would my parents feel and think if they saw me now? What would they say? Would they be proud, or would they be ashamed?" The lingering thought of my parents being of ashamed of me was too much to bear. Although I'd never met Lily and James, and I probably never would, the mere idea that they were my parents made me want to do them proud. _That's probably never going to happen anyway,_ I thought bitterly as I regarded my _twin's_ shocked gaze. I snorted lightly as I shook my head and closed my eyes again; as if he was ever my twin in the first place.

 _We never really knew eachother,_ I realized. Standing in Hagrid's warm house, I had an epiphany. Harry and I hadn't known eachother very long. It wasn't enough to understand eachother, and certainly not long enough for us to even feel remotely like siblings, let alone twins. All this time I'd been expecting him to treat me like his sister, and yet I'd never given him any reason to see me as such. I was just that distant person who he knew existed and was related by blood, but we were never related by soul or by heart. It was then that I also realized how susceptible to manipulation Harry was. He was just so innocent, so naive, that he didn't know what was right or wrong. My heart sunk as I realized that, if Voldemort had somehow found a way to contact Harry, he could have been Voldemort Jr. Harry Potter, the boy in front of me, a Dark Lord. The idea was laughable, yet totally true. He wouldn't have known who were good guys and the bad guys, and in theory there wasn't really a good or bad guy either. Each side thought they were good and fought for what they believed in. Both sides killed and hurt to get what they thought was justice, what was moral and right. Still, Harry might have thought killing was ok, that blood purity was truly something worth thinking about, because he just wouldn't have known the truth.

This was also shown when he ate up everything Ron had told him, both about Slytherin house and other things, even when it became clear to me that Ron was also still young and rather slow, even for a child of eleven years old. I saw that, though Harry and I were both the same age and grew up in similar environments, we had matured in different ways. I, at the orphanage and forced to fend for myself, had never known true love. I had never seen love either, since love was something so foreign that it was never talked about. I became cold and reserved, introverted, sarcastic, and untrusting to anything and anyone, and this forced me to grow up quickly. I was essentially an adult in a child's body, though even I had my innocent moments. Harry, on the other hand, almost stopped growing mentally. He retained a naive mindset and saw everything through the eyes of a child. He had seen love through the form of what I figured was my aunt and uncle with my cousin, and longed for that kind of touch and feeling. I saw this when he was with Ron, with his housemates, and I began to understand that my brother was still a child, not an adult like me, and that perhaps I had expected too much from someone who could give so little in return.

My brother wasn't exactly in the wrong to be cautious around me, since that was all he knew. He'd never seen Draco laughing gayly at some innocent joke I'd made, or Daphne's soft smile whenever she thought nobody wasn't looking. Harry had never seen what I'd seen, never heard Blaise's kind yet sarcastic words of wisdom, Pansy's endless chatter and her mothering ways, or Theodore's ingenious humor in the most serious of times. He didn't know what I knew, never knew what people were like when their masks had been removed and they felt free to express themselves.

And then I wasn't mad anymore. I only felt pity for my brother, the boy who didn't know anything but what he could see and hear from others. I wasn't upset that he thought I was some evil being anymore since he didn't know any better than to think so. I wouldn't call it manipulation, but Harry, my twin, had been blinded by the words and opinions of others into seeing me as someone I was not. I did, of course, feel sadness that he didn't know me well enough to see past the mask I wore, or attentive enough to see that everyone, Slytherins included, weren't perfect and had their own masks, too. I mourned for his innocence, yet hoped it would never leave him, for I knew that, in the end, his innocence to see the best in people and in situations would be what made him the hero.

Surprisingly, these chaotic but philosophical thoughts whipped through my brain in a matter of seconds, and when I opened my eyes I saw the other three inhabitants of the house staring at me with open mouths and wide eyes. Hagrid looked stunned at my harsh words, and he looked as if he didn't know what to say. I had decided from day one that Hagrid was a rather simple man with few goals and morals that were strong, solid, and things he would always believe in. He probably didn't understand the inner turmoil I was going through, nor how chaotic and wired a preteen could be. I felt sorry for him some, for he had to see my anger that I usually so carefully hid, but then I saw Weasley and Harry and I didn't feel so sorry for them. Weasley I had hated ever since the Sorting. He seemed to hate me for no other reason that I was a Slytherin, and I was angry with him because I knew he knew better. He was a wizard for God's sake and he was an obvious Dumbledore supporter, didn't he know the high and mighty Gandalf man didn't approve of prejudice before proven guilty? Weasley was just plain stupid, and I didn't have time for ignorant folks like him. Two could play a game, and I certainly wasn't going to lose to a bumbling fool. I didn't bother to look at Harry. After my ephiphany I just wasn't sure how I would react to what probably was shock and more betrayal and anger on his face. Before I had a reason to feel indignant; now though, I didn't. But I wasn't willing to let people see who I was just yet, so I easily glanced over his rather short form.

"Sorry about that," I said, slowly allowing air to escape my lips into the room. "That was uncalled for, and I apologize for my actions." Harry looked still in shock, but he nodded slowly to show he had heard. Weasley looked expectant and smug, as if he was waiting for his apology, and I wasn't about to give him the satisfication I rightfully deserved. "But I'm not going to apologize to Weasel here," I said, jerking my head towards the now fuming boy. "He doesn't deserve one, and honestly I still stand by everything I said to him."

"London-" Harry started, but I cut him off.

"Save it, Potter," I sighed, turning away. "Don't make it harder for me. I'm not mad at you, nor do I blame you for any problems your house or your friends have caused my friends or me, but we're not on friendly terms and I don't think it's wise to pretend like we are." He looked like he wanted to argue, but I turned to Hagrid then and saw he still looked startled. "Sorry, Hagrid," I said, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "I didn't mean to burst out like that, especially in your house."

"'t's alrigh'," he assured me. "Now, why don' you make yerself at home," he repeated the phrase he'd said as he invited me into his house, his beatle eyes glittering with mirth. "Harry was just telling me about his week."

"Sure," I shrugged, settling down in the seat furthest away from Weasley. The boarhound, who Hagrid had said was named Fang, approached me and quickly laid on my lap. I laughed softly since the dog reminded me of Chap, and I suddenly wondered if Chap had been adopted yet. I missed the dogs and even the cats from the animal shelter; it was the only homesickness I'd felt after coming to Hogwarts. "You're such a good doggo," I cooed as Fang began to drool. I tried not to think about the drool that was probably soiling my new robes, but scratched Fang behind his ears as he sighed and closed his eyes. Looking up, I noticed everyone looking at me and I raised my eyebrow. "What? Never seen a Slytherin's kind side before?" The two Gryffindors quickly looked away with red ears, but Hagrid smiled fondly and cleared his throat. "So, what were you sayin' 'bout Snape, Harry?"

"Er, he seems to really hate me," Harry murmured hesitantly, probably not willing to share his feelings with a Slytherin.

"If you're thinking I'm going to share all your secrets with Draco so he can publicly humiliate you in front of the school, I'm not going to do that," I said wryly, and Harry's ears turned a bright shade of red. "We may be Slytherins and willing to do some dirtier things to get our way, but we still have morals that we follow. Some more religiously than others, might I add," I added, giving Weasley the stink eye as I said it.

"Er, alright," Harry answered bashfully, and then said, "Hagrid, Snape really hates me."

"Rubbish," Hagrid exclaims, though I saw he didn't meet Harry's eye. "Why would he do that? How's yer brother Charlie? I liked him a lot-great with animals." Due to the topic change I didn't listen very much to the conversation until Harry mentioned the Gringott's break-in. I had read about it in the papers that morning when Draco's mother sent him his daily goody box, which he shared with rest of the Slytherin first years (bar Maleficent, he seemed to hold a grudge against her), yet I was interested in what two Gryffindors (clueless ones at that) would have to say about the news. "Hagrid, that Gringott's break-in happened on my-" I cleared my throat loudly and he quickly stuttered, "I mean, _our_ birthday! It might've been happening as we were there!"

Hagrid was definitely acting suspicious after that, only grunting and offering Harry another rock cake. Like I'd said before, Hagrid was a simple man and probably wasn't very good at hiding with his emotions. I suspected that spiking his drink would make the man totally unaware and easy to question. He was easy to read, and from what I saw was definitely hiding something he didn't want us to know. "Anyway," Hagrid said loudly; he was going to change the topic again. "Harry, London, how've things been goin' on betw'n the two of yeh?" Harry ducked his head and mumbled quietly. "Wha's that?" Hagrid asked. "Didn' catch that, sorry."

"What he's trying to say is," I said, shurgging my shoulders as I continued, "We haven't really interacted that much since school started."

"Why not?" Hagrid looked genuinely surprised and curious.

"We're in different houses, Hagrid," I explained gently, trying to get my point across without hurting the gentle giant's feelings. "It also doesn't help that he's in Gryffindor and I'm their worst enemy." The man glanced at the trimming of my robes, then at the trimming of Harry's. His eyes widened in understanding and he sighed. "Look, Harry. London. Yer probably not goin' to understand what I'm goin' to say, but I hope you'll understand. I've watched yeh two since yer first met, and I expect great things from the both of yeh. Yer stronger togethe' than yeh are apart."

"Wow, Hagrid," I blinked. "That was... very insightful of you. I'll take it into consideration, I suppose."

"Me too," Harry agreed softly, and we looked eachother in the eye for the second time that day. An understanding passed between us and we called a silent truce. Things wouldn't be normal between us for a long time, not by a long shot, but we promised eachother we'd try to become the siblings we were supposed to be. "We'll try to be who we were meant to be," we said together.

"I promise, Hagrid," Harry affirmed. I didn't say "I promise" with Harry because I knew how easy it was to break one, but I agreed to try my best.

"Excellent! More cake?"

An hour later found us on our way to dinner. As we trudged back to the castle, there was more peace between us. Ron and I had called a temporary truce where we'd ignore one another unless absolutely necessary and were now on a first name basis. We still disliked eachother, but it wasn't hate anymore; just extreme dislike. Harry and I were on much better terms and we chatted happily together as the castle came closer to our view. It must have been a weird sight, with both Potters talking up a storm and a Weasley walking next to a Slytherin, but I didn't care.

"Hagrid doesn't seem like someone with good alcohol tolerance," I speculated as I walked with Harry. We were discussing what Hagrid knew that he wasn't telling us. "If we slipped a little beer or whiskey into his drink, he'll probably tell us exactly what he took, and maybe what's guarding it if there is any."

"Why are you telling us that?" Ron asked grudginly. He didn't hate me as much anymore but seemed to still be salty over my Sorting.

"Oh right, I'm sorry, Weasley, for telling you how we can figure out what Hagrid took from vault 713. My mistake. That was top secret information, for Slytherin ears only," I shot back sarcastically.

"What were you saying, London?" Harry asked me, ignoring Ron's grumbling.

"If we play our cards right," I said slowly, mulling over my words carefully. "If we're careful, we can probably discover what the school staff is hiding by next week if anyone can smuggle in some alcohol."

"I heard there was a kitchen at Hogwarts," Ron offered. "Fred and George told me about it. They won't tell me where it is though."

"Well, now we have a plan," I shrugged as the door opened to the Entrance Hall. "Ron, you need to convince your brothers to tell you where the kitchen is. Harry, it's probably best if you go with Ron because Fred and George Weasley will probably tell you. We need to visit Hagrid again, though it'll be pretty easy to come up with an excuse."

"What's it going to be?" Harry asked eagerly. He was very adamant in discovering the truth behind the break-in and the little package from vault 713. I was also admittedly curious, but I told Harry we needed to be patient. "Like I said, if we do everything correctly we might be able to discover what we most want to know."

By that time we'd made it to the grand doors of the Great Hall. "Well, it was nice doing business with you," I said, holding out my hand to shake. Harry shook it instantly and grinned. "It was pleasure doing business with you too... sister." He then followed Ron into the Great Hall and I watched as they found a spot at the Gryffindor table. They began a conversation with Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor and I didn't watch them after that. I made my way to the Slytherin table and slid in between Draco and Daphne. "Where have you been?" Pansy scolded me from across the table as soon as she saw me.

"Oh, you know," I said casually as I scooped some beans onto my plate. "Just in the library, and I also went exploring on the grounds."

"Really," Draco said, his eyes narrow. "You looked pretty chummy with your brother back there." He was refering to when Harry and I entered the hall.

"Yeah, about that," I said, slowly chewing on my food to buy me some time. "We kind of ran into each other and had a talk. We sort of realized we were being irrational and decided to make up." Draco looked upset, but Daphne smacked him over the head and spoke to me sweetly. "We're glad you've made up with your brother, London," Daphne told me with a warm smile. "We're happy to see that you're happy."

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously. As far as I was aware, I hadn't acted any different than I had before. "I've always been happy. Or not happy," I frowned as I added the last thought. "Either way, I've never been different."

Daphne only shared a secret grin with Pansy and the other boys, and I pouted as they refused to share their secret. "Whatever," I sighed mockingly, stabbing the noodles listlessly. "I guess I'll just have to talk to Harry more since my friends are keeping secrets from me." Pansy laughed loudly and only shook her head fondly. She then told me to hurry up and eat my food or else there would be no dessert, and I finished my food quickly.

 _Sorry for the super short chapter. I'll try to make a longer one next time. SO. I have two important questions. First of all, what relationship do you want London to have? I know it seems like she might be paired with Draco, but that's probably not going to happen. In honesty, I'll probably make her single after trying to date Blaise or something, or have her marry a muggle or some other wizard. I also have the idea of making her homosexual since it's LGBT Pride month and I really support these people, but I'm not sure if that would be a good idea on here? Following up on pairings, all pairings will be original except for minor characters like Ernie and Susan Bones. My second question is this: should I continue this story through all the years, or finish it at the Sorcerer's Stone? I have some ideas bouncing around for other years, but I'm afraid the story will be too long? What do you think? Thanks for reading, and I will update soon. Check out my Wattpad stories too, my account is Bubble_Tea_Green and please like my stuff thank you. It's not fanfiction but I might post something there as well. Have a nice day._

 _Edit: Okay, so I want to address some of the reviews that I got. First of all, to Nanettez, I get that the Greater Good is really annoying (it annoyed me too to be honest). But at the time, it kind of felt like the best thing to do to justify Dumbledore's actions at the time. The Greater Good won't actually be a really big part of the story, since even though London is suspicious and wary of Dumbledore she'll grow to respect him (so there won't be too much animosity). Second, also Nanettez, I do realize that Identical twins have to be the same gender. Sorry! It was kind of an error that I forgot at the time. I guess I have to go back to my biology unit and look through it again :) Lastly, also to Nanettez, I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to have her know before yet? I was thinking maybe because of Dumbledore told her since he probably knows, but also maybe it could be in a dream? London hasn't really been a big part of the series and right now she's sort of just another student who goes to Hogwarts with Harry Potter. Even though Harry has unique powers of his own (like the magic protecting him from his mother), I also want London to have some skills of her own to make her stand out, like Hermione's wisdom for Hermione and Ron's loyalty (somewhat) for Ron. I'm still thinking about that though, so I'm not sure yet. It'll probably manifest more in her later years if I decide to continue the story. Thanks for the feedback by the way, I would have never noticed some of the stuff you pointed out to me!_

 _Edit 2: Okay, so now I have some more feedback that I will address. First,_ _Maleficent and Millicent. Well, originally I didn't know, but I suppose it was kind of on purpose? It's hard to explain, but Malificent just kind of sounded better than Millicent at the time so I kind of just rolled with it (because I was too lazy to check it sorry). Second, the sentient thing? Yeah, that was kind of just an error sorry. I corrected it so it should work now. The owl thing was also a mistake made in the moment, but I also fixed it. Last, the part about her being a b****? There are two reasons for this. First, yes she is more mature and less gullible than Harry, but she's still a girl who can and is influenced by peers and the society. So, one reason she's acting like Malfoy is because, as she is still new to the wizarding world, she's kind of trying fit in. This is sort of what she's seen in people so far, so it's kind of like that. Second reason is that she's not actually becoming a b****, it was a "just in the moment" thing where she was trying to find the most hurtful thing to say to Weasley since she was upset._


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